April 16, 2014

The first resolution

Filed under: unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 4:44 pm


Thank you for your concerned mail.

I do appreciate your points raised but it is precisely these points that I try to demolish in the work which is a radical critique of pixels and the obsession to make them bigger. True resolution lies in telling the truth and not in how many purported pixels there are or aren’t.

(Radikal Lofi Optics Brigade)

Stacy Hardy (M.M.Ph.)
Meta-Metal Philologist

Aryan Kaganof (U.D.D.)
Unga Dada Dundaheed

preparations for the festival are underway

Filed under: kaganof — ABRAXAS @ 4:36 pm

The screenings will take place in the Lichtburg with a screen of 11,35 x 4,83 meters and the Gloria with a screen of 6,7 x 2,85meters, where films are projected at 1920 x 1080pxl, which is standard HD definition. The films we receive are tested by our technicians and prepared for this large projection. All tapes are being digitalized and we will project newly produced dcps or Pro Res 422.

However some of the screening copies we’ve received are problematic, as they are quite pixelated and just will not look great on the big screen. They are the best copies available and we are doing what we can.

This is not an issue as long as everyone knows what to expect, including the audience whom this should be communicated to at the beginning of the screening, which I’d like to ask you to do.
I think the look of the projection can be easily explained (i.E.: intended for smaller projections and being video formats) and everyone will understand.

Certainly we want to highlight the fabulous work instead of drawing attention to the projection, but I think managing the expectations of everyone involved and making sure we all know our technicians and projectionists are doing the very best they can, is important to note.

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to contact me.
I’m looking forward to meeting you both in a couple of weeks and hope we’ll have a great festival.

mngxitama on land @unisa

Filed under: andile mngxitama,politics — ABRAXAS @ 2:57 pm


brinkema: visible darkness

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unga dada, suffering

Filed under: unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 10:58 am


eritrea today

Filed under: ewald steyn,ruins — ABRAXAS @ 10:47 am



Filed under: kaganof short films,stellenbosched — ABRAXAS @ 10:19 am


giorgio agamben

eugenie brinkema: VISIBLE DARKNESS: Optics according to Augustine

Filed under: eugenie brinkema,film as subversive art,philosophy — ABRAXAS @ 10:13 am


Quo dolore contenebratum est cor meum, et quidquid aspiciebam mors erat.
(Read: This misery is a misery of light.)

Grief darkens, it blackens; dim eyes, dusky heart – all such hurt is stygian. The opening line of Augustine’s lament for his friend is a reworked condensation of Lamentations 5:17: “propterea maestum factum est cor nostrum ideo contenebrati sunt oculi nostri” (for this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim). The torture room of this mournful confinement is suffused with darkness and blindness. Augustine’s haunting avowal participates in a long-standing Western philosophical and theological tradition of figuring suffering in relation to loss as a problematic of vision and visibility. The plaintive motif can be found throughout the Bible: “my eyes fail because of tears” (Lamentations 2:11); “my eye has also grown dim because of grief, and all my members are as a shadow” (Job 17:7). Mourning’s pain is figured as a matter of waning, dulling luminosity and troubled representation: Augustine’s sorrow slides between grief and darkness, suffering and blindness, material absence and absolute visual foreclosure.

Death deprives one of the vision of the other who is lost and, in a larger sense, deprives one of the illuminating possibilities of light, visibility, and untroubled vision. New eyes seek and find only the presence of absence, not instructing a self on the approach of the other but speaking the opposite of “Look, he is coming.” (That opposite is not the affirmation, “Look, he is not coming.” Its language of visual presence resists negation; it is something closer to a mathematical negative than a grammatical one: “Unlook.”) In blackness, one regards only death (et quidquid aspiciebam mors erat); thus, it is not a matter of the elimination of seeing, or the absolutism of a sensual truncation, but, rather, the muting of light’s approach to the eye in favour of a visibility based in and of darkness, a vision that now sees nothing. This is the optics of Milton’s Hell: “from those flames/ No light, but rather darkness visible.” In other words, grief at the death of Augustine’s dear friend rewrites the physics of optics to no longer demand or require the entrance of light-avowing presences, creating a seeing that neighter instructs one on the world nor deploys the senses as epistemological vouchers. The visual field, in mourning, is reduced entirely to its blind spot.

Eyes seek (a) being, but they do not see – for being is no longer there to be seen. This visibility involves nerves that recursively hunt for the impossible presence of nonbeing; as though standing apart from the anguished body,plucked-out orbs turn in an endless left-to-right rotation of desperate surveillance. Grieving, which involves the ontological loss of the other, figured through the sensual loss of the vision of the other, culminates in a radical transformation of the possibilities of a vision based on illumination and presence altogether. The p ain at the death of the other necessarily involves this reconfiguration of visibility, the paradoxical vision of an absence that seeks out what can no longer present itself to the senses except in its refusal to self-present. In loss there is simply no more of the object off which light could bounce. Every loss of being is thus fundamentally a loss of light, including, as Augustine insists, the transparent, well-lit, comprehending self. Grief refigures seeing as envisioning without enlightenment: spectating in the darkness on a retinal other scene. Looking through dead eyes into which no light can be taken, on which no image can imprint its rays, dolore dampens the optic possibilities of a sensual encounter with a present existent world, like an affective cataract.

Augustine’s account details a very particular and complex visual scenario whereby suffering takes the form of a kind of blindness, and yet blindness through this association takes on a strange and specific sense, one that requires a history of the signifier for its relation to grief to emerge. “Blind” derives from the etymological bases bhlendh (to glimmer indistinctly, to mix, confuse) and blesti (to become dark). Blindness as an obstructioin of sight is a relatively recent usage, dating to around the early 1500s (and thus well after Augustine), but the original sense of confusion, not sightlessness, is better suited for understanding the eye-dimming consequence of loss. For what is confused in Augustine’s dirge is both the classical epistemology of vision whereby “Look!” involves looking-for, in an intentionality that assumes the objectal presence of the imperative’s target, and the self-comprehending self that no longer finds its bearings in space, light, and vision (the newly riddled, hard-riddled self). The confessions of grief in Confessions are confessions of confusions. What glimmers indistinctly in this passage is neither the lost absent nor the remaining present but the indeterminate fact that avows the bewilderingly stubborn existence of one in the wake of the irrefutable nonexistence of the other. If blindness were to be redescribed as an affect, it would be the affect of a stricken disorientation.

The Forms of the Affects
Eugenie Brinkema
Duke University Press, 2014


the affect of a stricken disorientation

Filed under: dick tuinder,unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 9:30 am

those in the mind, who think they have a mind, are not in the mind, for the mind has no time. so stop wasting so much time cos it’s your time that you’re wasting.0


Filed under: niklas zimmer,poetry — ABRAXAS @ 9:28 am

It’s hard to defend the present
Against the future

The present gets tired of all this ‘willing’
Being used entirely to just being

But who is the biggest cheat?
Only the past knows

Filed under: harry, jumping — ABRAXAS @ 9:01 am


mai hoshino in tokyo elegy

Filed under: 1999 - shabondama elegy (tokyo elegy) — ABRAXAS @ 8:58 am


boehmke on hani

Filed under: Heinrich Böhmke,politics — ABRAXAS @ 8:08 am

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keep reading this article here: http://www.theafricareport.com/Soapbox/canalise-and-control-a-south-african-legacy.html

April 15, 2014

unga dada with propaganda (the difficulty addict)

Filed under: dick tuinder,kagapoems,rob schroder,unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 11:33 pm


pressing matters: blueprint for an unga dada performance

Filed under: unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 10:59 pm


stephanus muller on the waning of unga dada in postmodernity

Filed under: stephanus muller,unga dada — ABRAXAS @ 10:17 pm


roberta van laarhoven & de enge knijperman

Filed under: kaganof — ABRAXAS @ 9:46 pm


liz savage, rob robson, daniel daran, ruby savage and sten lezer, amsterdam 1991

Filed under: ian kerkhof — ABRAXAS @ 9:37 pm


Filed under: art,caelan — ABRAXAS @ 9:18 pm


the forms of the affects – eugenie brinkema

Filed under: eugenie brinkema,film — ABRAXAS @ 6:01 pm


when jesus on the cross called out to his father this is what his father said

Filed under: kagapoems — ABRAXAS @ 4:12 pm

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Dr Chinweizu on Masculinism

Filed under: sex,Zama Khumalo — ABRAXAS @ 1:55 pm

If the standard privileges of women make the world of elite matriarchs the closest thing on earth to paradise, then men; on whose risks and effort women’s privileges rest, are the helots of woman’s world. Even the grand patriarchs are but headmen among the helots; each is merely the chief public agent for the grand matriarch whose nest he serves.

When some in paradise rebel against their condition, what should the helots do? Would it be unreasonable of them to revolt?

To understand why men have not yet revolted in the wake of feminism, we ought to note that, in their attitudes to women, there are three basic types of men: the macho, the musho, and the masculinist. A macho is a brawny, and sometimes brainy, factotum who has been bred for nest slavery,_and who is indoctrinated to believe that he is the lord and master of the woman who rules him. A musho is a henpecked version of the macho who hangs like a bleeding worm between the beaks of his nest queen. A masculinist is a man who is devoted to male liberty, and who would avoid nest slavery.

All through history, the overwhelming majority of men have been machos; a henpecked minority have been mushos; and very few have been masculinists. As feminism won prominence, and brought greater social acceptability to termagants, more and more men have come under their influence, and become mushos. On the other hand, stung by feminist accusations, a very tiny minority of men have re-examined the male condition, found it to be nest slavery, and have rebelled and turned masculinist.

The macho (or male chauvinist, or manly man) is a strutting factotum with bulging biceps, stone-dry eyes, brains that are ruled by his gonads, and an ego indoctrinated to believe that he is the lord -and master of the woman who rules him. His psyche is primed to defend his woman’s supposed honour from other men’s advances. Thoroughly conditioned to serve women, his life satisfaction comes from loyally serving his nest queen. Naturally, he is the matriarchist’s ideal man. When young, he suffers from the delusion that he is stronger, cleverer, and naturally superior to the woman who controls him. However, an older and wiser macho, if obliged to confess the truth, might say: “I am the captain of this ship, and I have the permission of my wife to say so.” But by then, it is too late for him to be anything but a habitual macho.

The modern musho (the new or feminal man) is one of that breed of diffident men who have been bullied, guilt-tripped, ego-bashed and penis-twisted into pram pushing, diaper changing and breast envy. He is the befuddled, henpecked male who lacks the wit to recognize his male interest. He is one of those male wives of female husbands who have been described, in Julie Burchill’s apt phrases, ‘as the “bleeding hearts” and “crying males” who make up “the walking wounded” of the modern sex war. The more articulate musho even becomes a missionary for his hen’s anti-male views. This pathetic wimp is, quite naturally, hailed by feminists as the “new man”. He is the termagant feminist’s ideal man . .

The masculinist belongs to an altogether different species from the macho and the musho. He does not suffer from most of the illusions of the macho; he is not drawn to macho ambitions; and he views the musho with robust contempt. In keeping with his commitment to the liberation of men from nest slavery, the masculinist would end the psychological, social and legal conditions for that slavery, and create instead conditions for equitable relations between the complementary sexes.

If men have not yet revolted in the wake of feminism, it is because there are still two few masculinists around. This is so because mother power still produces far too many machos; and because termagants have taken so many lapsing machos in tow and made them into mushos; and because far too many men are ignorant of female power and its ways and means. Consequently, the liberation of men depends crucially on the spread of the masculinist understanding of male-female relations.

The masculinist is a libertarian. His commitment to male liberty, and his understanding of the conditions for male liberty, shape his beliefs. The masculinist accepts that, contrary to what the macho believes-. – and the feminist claims, it is a woman’s world, and not a man’s.

The masculinist accepts that, contrary to feminist propaganda and macho illusions, the arch enemies of feminism are not men, but that vast majority of matriarchists who do not wish to give up their traditional powers and privileges. Since patriarchy is but a facade for a basic matriarchy, the men whom feminists claim as their enemies are simply fall guys for the matriarchists. Masculinists, therefore, would redirect the feminist arrows to their proper destination, namely, matriarchy.

The masculinist accepts that, as the calypso songs say, “the woman is smarter” and “woman is boss”. The masculinist accepts that men are the biologically more dispensable sex – which is why societies train men for high risk occupations like hunting and war, whereas wombs (and their carriers) are protected to maximize a society’s reproductive capacity, hence its chances of survival.

The masculinist does not believe in being owned by any woman; nor does he believe in owning any woman. He recognizes that the owning of a human being by another was abolished long ago, and quite rightly too, and he has no interest in having the practice revived in any form.

In his encounters with women, the masculinist’s role model is not Adam, who he has little reason to respect; he takes after Gilgamesh and Odysseus, who knew women well enough to defeat their schemes and survive their revenge; who demonstrated that the resolute man, who understands woman, has little cause to fear her.

The masculinist believes that every woman has every right to do whatever she wants with her body, except enslave a man with it. If she wants to hoard it, and tender her unbroken hymen to the worms in her grave, that is her prerogative. If she wants to give her genitals to any man, or to twenty men, or to.a thousand; or to a chicken or goat or gorilla or horse or hippo or elephant or polar bear (in that alleged order of mounting vigour) – that too is her business.

The masculinist does not believe in clitoridectomy; he sees it as a great strategic weapon against men. The uncut clitoris, he knows, would make women as randy as men, if not more so; it would end that sexual restraint which gives a woman power over the sexually desperate male.

The masculinist is not prepared to sell his lifelong labour to any woman in exchange for her ova and her womb. If he decides to rent ova and womb, he pays the going rate or even better; but he will not enslavement (to a nest, just for the illusion of owning ova and womb. He cannot wait for the day when cloning will make the womb obsolete, and womb renting superfluous. The masculinist has no quarrel with love itself. He knows that a woman’s love, when she is not nest-minded, when she is either pre-pubescent or post-menopausal, can be quite safe and .pleasant for a man. But he also knows that it is rare, most rare, for a woman, between puberty and menopause, to indulge in non-nesting, non-predatory love.

Being a seasoned realist, a masculinist is, in Diane Wakoski’s words, “a beast of the jungle and knows better than to disregard the natural of an animal” Therefore, When he tangles with a nest-age woman; When she gushes ‘out she loves him, He cannot but wonder which arm or leg The lovely shark is after.

To the masculinist, a wedding is a ceremony in which a woman is issued with a public licence to ride piggyback on a man and exploit him. He therefore does his best not to wed. He does not believe in marrying to obtain household help. Unlike the macho; he finds it cheaper (financially, emotionally, mentally) to rent household help than to marry it.

The masculinist does not subscribe to gallantry. He does not believe that a man should open doors for, or give up his seat to, a woman, not unless she is infirm from age or disease, in which case she gets the same considerateness as aged or infirm men. He does not believe that it is for any man to defend any woman’s honour: he believes, that, if her honour matters to her, a woman is quite capable of defending it herself.

The maliculinist believes that every woman should point out herself. She should learn karate and other martial arts to defend herself.

The masculinist believes that if it is all right for women to be feminists, it is all right for men to be masculinists. What is good for the goose is good for the gander: each should, therefore, define and protect its own interest. But what is the male interest? Or rather, what are the sorts of things that are NOT in the male interest?

It is not in the male interest to be society’s specialists in violence, war and other dangerous pursuits. So long as these pursuits are necessary, men and women should equally engage in them. The proposition in February 1980, by US President Jimmy Carter, to draft men and women for military service;1 l2 and the decision, in February 1989, by Canada, to integrate its armed forces and make women serve in wartime combat roles, including infantry units, l13 – these are both in the male interest.

It is not in the male interest to maim or slaughter one another in their competition for wombs.
It is not in the male interest to be killed by a woman when a liason between a man and a woman breaks up, or when the woman, like the notorious Jean H arris, fears the man might leave her.
It is not in the male interest to live in an environment that is polluted with sexual stimulants which weaken men’s bargaining position in transactions with women.
It is not in the male interest to be exploited through alimony payments and other rackets of divorce.
Now, how do matriarchism, feminism and masculinism relate to one another? Broadly speaking, feminism and masculinism are two different revolts against matriarchy. Feminism is a revolt by some women who are bored or frustrated within the matriarchist paradise; masculinism is a revolt by some of the helots on whose backs that paradise rests.

How does masculinism regard matriarchism and the tendencies within feminism?
Matriarchists have been the expert exploiters of men since the beginning of human society. Their ideology, matriarch ism, still demands the same thing from men: obedient and uncomplaining servitude. Since they are dedicated to nest-slavery, matriarchism and matriarchists are most dangerous to masculine liberty; they are, therefore, the focus\of the masculinist’s freedom-loving scrutiny.

From the masculinist point of view, the demands of tomboy feminism are understandable, negotiable and mostly reasonable. Equal opportunities in the world of their brothers and fathers for those women who prefer careers in that arena? Yes. Equal pay for equal work? Yes, of course. But why, the masculinist wonders,. do tomboy feminists limit their clamour for equality to the soft, white collar jobs in the erstwhile male sphere? If, as they insist, equality should replace complementarity as the overriding principle in the gender division of labour, risk and status, then why do tomboys not demand that both genders be equally drafted into infantry platoons or coal pits? Should gender equality stop short at the edges of swamps, mine pits and battlefields? Until tomboys demand equal access to the nasty and strenuous jobs which men do, the masculinist can only be skeptical of tomboy feminism’s good faith. To the tomboy feminist who advocates gender equality, the masculinist would address this vital question: Is it fair to reorganize the centres of male power to accommodate women without also reorganizing the centres of female power to accommodate men? Upon the answer received would depend the masculinist’s attitude to the tomboy feminist.

The demands of tarmagant feminism are another matter entirely.

They are not demands with discernible remedies, but rather excuses for guilt-tripping, harassing and mauling men in the unhallowed tradition of harridans and shrews. To termagant feminism belong those man haters who would legitimize man-killing for nest desertion (Jean Harris and her supporters), or even man-killing for spurned love (Ishtar style), on the implicit ground that a man has no right to choose whom to love, but must submit to any woman’s offer of her embrace, like a slave to a tyrant’s wishes. To termagant feminism belong the palimony racketeers and the alimony extorters; and the man-humiliators who demand:
“Love me, love my menstrual blood” (even in this age of aids?). Of
termagant feminism, all sane males must beware.

Paradoxically, the tomboy is the masculinist’s least uncongenial type of woman. She is his partial ally in revolt against matriarchism; and, temperamentally, she is like a buddy with whom he could have sex and children. The termagant, though sometimes quite deadly, is the least problematic to the masculinist: her nuisance can usually be avoided from afar.

Being determined to obtain his liberty, the masculinist looks at nest slavery with unsentimental eyes; for only by understanding man’s condition can he hope to change it. He accepts that man’s subordination to woman derives from the five pillars of woman power. He knows that, with man’s loss of control over the kitchen and the cradle, he really has never had any chance of being anything but the slave (glorified when necessary) of woman. As a realist, he accepts that woman’s control of the womb will remain unassailable until cloning techniques are perfected.

He knows that probably nothing can be done about woman’s relatively greater psychological maturity. But he also knows that much can be done, through cultural training, to whittle down woman’s control of kitchen and cradle, and to reduce the deranging powers of the erect penis. He therefore welcomes feminist demands that men be obliged to work as baby-minders. When men get control of the cradle, they will be able to train children in the male interest, and so reduce the numbers of machos and mushos in the world. When men get control of the kitchen, female power over man’s stomach will diminish. A man who cooks cannot be half-starved into submission, on any matter, by his wife. The masculinist believes in bringing about the revolt of the helots of matriarchy. Ah, what a different world it would be if only the macho ego would give up its ingrained stupidity and respond to the masculinist call: Men of the world unite; you have nothing to lose but your macho illusions and your nest-slave burdens!

- From the book published in 1990 and titled “The Anatomy of Female Power” -


Filed under: kagapoems — ABRAXAS @ 1:07 pm

every fixed position
is a lost position
including this one

on honeymoon with my butcher

Filed under: kagapoems — ABRAXAS @ 1:03 pm

last night i lied myself to an orgasm
this morning i woke up with my
skull cap on back to front so
i googled your name while
you peeled off your
silken undergar-
ments, and it
seemed like
we intended
was mysteriously
in synch with the
bloody moon. but still
it’s hard not to think of
the many people you butchered
nonetheless i’m prepared to do so
for the next hour if it means you’ll
assume some nasty positions

those people you butchered
would have died anyway


message in a bottle

Filed under: kagapoems — ABRAXAS @ 12:51 pm

this poem is automatically generated
please do not respond to this poem

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