- Analysing the policing of drug
subculture in Notting Hill in the
late 1960s, Jock Young (1971) argues that police action against
the marijuana consumer produced: a consolidation and
accentuation of subcultural ('deviant') values, including an
increase in the organisation and cohesion of the recreational
drug-use socio-economy; and a change in the lifestyle around
marihuana consumption, so that certain facets of media stereotype
became actuality. The first is intrinsic to the process of
escalation (or for Young, 'deviancy amplification'), as the
nightlife subculture responds to criminalisation by embedding the
stigmatised variant as a bonding practice. A rise in police
action in response to an increase in transgression increases the
necessity for the drug consumer to privatise her consumption.
Thus Hackney Council profiles the busting of so-called crack
houses, and provides a (consumer) hotline for grassing up squats.
The definition of an area such as South Shoreditch as a nightlife
location is part of this process of escalation-segregation-
persecution,
something which the proposed system of planning regulation and
coralling of late-night uses is
concretising, along with a further escalation in police activity
and co-opted local business management.
Erving Goffman (1961, after Freud) terms this process an
'overdetermination' as "apparently minor satisfactions can
come to be defined as great ones", when there is "the
sense of a practice being employed merely because it is
forbidden", and "the very pursuit of [minor practices
which contravene institutional regulation] comes to be a source
of satisfaction (the sense of taking the institution on)
(Goffman: 274-275). Goffman refers to studies of prison inmates
and psychiatric patients discussing the "scoring of
coffee".
Goffman suggests that these infringements of regulation reaffirm
the subject in her autonomy against the institution. However, he
neglects another principle of overdetermination, that is, the
multiplicity of contradictions in their uneven development,
underlying the crisis management of the post-war welfare state.
Against the popularity of alcohol consumption and
recreational drug use, we might note other mechanisms of the
'soft machine' or integration-repression (Aglietta) at work: the
restructuring of state process -- the socialisation of
governance, "a direct ideological attempt to homogenise
society"; graduate and other debt (the localised
manifestation of a tendency towards latent stigmatisation as
predominant form of control); the consumption norm (as hegemonic,
corporatist construction; note the shifting terms of relative
deprivation which integrates the myth of consumer society, the
world of objects and their replacement, into a process of
polarisation which produces the 'faulty consumer' of the 'new
poor' -- Bauman); racist stigmatisations by police (particularly
in relation to car ownership), that is, the consumption norm
appears to be regarded by police as white privilege; the
incorporation of youth into state policy rationale (particularly
around issues of drug use, work ethic and notions of 'social
cohesion') combined with the stigmatisation and regulation of
youth for dress code and use of space; the regulation of
sexuality; the rise of immaterial and affective labour as
predominant forms of labour process/command (the manufacture of
consent, the production of cooperation); administered alienation
replacing class solidarity (corporate trade unions and the demise
of strategic dissent).
Freud used the term 'overdetermination' to describe the
representation of dream-thoughts in images privileged by their
condensation of a number of thoughts in a single image, or by the
transference of psychic energy from a particularly potent thought
to apparently trivial messages (displacement). Indeed, Jock Young
describes police treatment of individuals as couched in terms of
media stereotype (a condensation), something which seems to have
spread to the SSDAAP and its appendices, but these constructions
also describe a principle of consumption.
- Subculture also has its media
reflexion, and several of the key
magazines aimed at nightlife consumers are based in the South
Shoreditch area (The Face, Dazed & Confused, VICE, I-D). One
issue of VICE (Volume 3, Number 5) The Drugs Issue, was found
free in a local bar on May 18 2005, and was subsequently defaced
by the artist A--- B--- with the URL 'BOMBLONDON.COM', the words
'VOLE' and 'LEND ME YOUR SHOES', and DISSENT!G8 stickers
foreboding "when injustice becomes law...M74". Below, the
author(s) analyse aspects of the magazine for an insight into
strategies of escalation and reproduction around the issue of
drug use within (international) youth subculture and the formal
expression that subcultural genres have staked historically as
their own.
The Gross Jar: a theoretical commentary
On page 94 of the publication the production office demonstrate
their own critique of subculture, an item longing to be banned by
the Geneva Convention or be raided by the RSPCA. The 'Gross Jar'
once contained Polish cucumbers in brine, but now stores a rat
(dead) which disembowelled itself when faced with the saline
encounter, and as of Volume 3 Number 5, a used tampon provided by
a staff member's girlfriend. The image printed above the article
shows a pronounced sediment, and a crust of ochre growing around
the rest of the jar. The tampon is described as "slowly
slaking off tiny red chunks and tinting the surrounding water a
pleasant crimson". This decomposition, a 'work in progress',
substitutes as editorial.
As a rotting gesture, adding a critique of
reproduction to the stench of toxic flesh (a Gothic curse here,
sex and death; the Victorian equation of woman or the decadent
male with decay, as amoral and lacking vigour), the VICE staff
throw a series of metaphorical provocations
(woman:breeding:bacterial, interior:skin:patina,
container:morality:womb, perfection:symbol:putrefaction),
"drawing attention to the area of contact between the
unconscious and its manifestation as collective phantasy, that
is, roughly speaking, popular culture and its
representations" (Laura Mulvey, 1989, on Mary Kelly's Corpus,
a
very different work). There is a deeply moral antagonism here,
the woman's detritus subjected to the biological hazard in the
jar:
Allowed a lawnmowing mask as a concession to the Jar's (SIC)
sun-charged springtime bouquet, our staff member plucked his
girlfriend's bloody plug out of its bag, and in one impressive,
fluid motion yanked the cap off the Jar, crammed the tampon into
the rat's flimsy skin balloon until it was fully submerged in the
liquid, and slammed the cap back in place. The whole operation
took maybe five seconds.
"I started to hesitate for just
a second once I had the lid off," he said, panting heavily
after darting back into the office, "but then the smell got
into my mouth, and I wasn't even breathing. I think I still might
puke." Asked about the exact nature of the stench, the
staffer could only respond with suppressed gags and muttered
abstractions like 'cancer' and 'deathrot'.
(VICE staff)
For a late teen gag the Gross Jar has remarkably
sophisticated connotations. The Gross Jar is uncanny; a text
du
jouissance. It disturbs, it
unsettles. The image might be read to imply both
Platonic receptacle (the 'semiotic chora' of Julia Kristeva's
Revolution in Poetic Language,
1984), prey to the symbolisations, condensations and
displacements of the primary process -- an experience that the
drug consumer flees to, the motive for the process of consumption
-- and the dissolution of identity in the processes of
subjectival mourning.
That is to say that the semiotic chora is no more than the place
where the subject is both generated and negated, the place where
his unity succumbs before the process of charges and stases that
produce him[, that is], a negativity (ibid)
When thinking of the
'chora', one is reminded here of the word
"marshmallow" as one intravenous user of heroin described
the experience, or of the confidence in interpersonal relations
generated by cocaine.
Kristeva asserts the conception
as "[n]either model nor copy, the chora precedes and
underlies figuration and thus specularization, and is analogous
only to vocal and kinetic rhythm". The chora is productive
of discontinuities in those forms of expression "susceptible
to semiotization: voice, gestures, colours". As in Burroughs'
Soft Machine (discussed in Section 6.3 of the Project Mimique
report),
"[c]onnections or functions are [...]
established between these discrete marks [phonic (later
phonemic), kinetic or chromatic units and differences] which are
based on drives and articulated according to their resemblance or
opposition, either by slippage or by condensation. Here we find
the principles of metonymy and metaphor indissociable from the
drive economy underlying them". The end of moral civilisation
is reached by a return to its
origins. "[T]he mother's body [...] mediates the symbolic law
organising social relations and becomes the ordering principle of
the semiotic chora, which is on the path of destruction,
aggressivity and death".
A triptych emerges as interpretive analogy (after Mulvey, page
154), the spectralised presence of the decomposing rodent, and
the dispersion of bacteria, haunting/consuming the woman's blood
and its infusion of the sanitary product:
- The pervasive female
presence in advertising which condenses women's bodies to
commodity consumption and the representation of a woman's body as
commodity (objectification); images of motherhood; the warm
reassurances of the semiotic chora.
- A hidden disorder, the
body or mind's vulnerability, its wounds and uncontrollable
symptoms; disease, contagion, death; menstruation as a curse;
drug use as opiate addiction.
- The problem of female sexual
desire. If "desire cannot be expressed without an image that
can represent it" how might one redefine women's relation to
their own image, ie. beyond the question of appropriation (for
masculine phantasy or the repressed masculine desire for a womb).
The tampon as lack, masquerading as liberation.
Terrorism or teenage humour? The Gross Jar account is juxtaposed
to a review of a DVD Honey, We Blew Up Your Pussy. (Dir: Rod
Fontana, kickass.com. Rating 100). The film shows women enlarging
their inner lip with a pump KA-90:
At one point I thought her pussy was going to explode. And it's
all in slow motion. [...] It's like watching a souffle rise.
[...] In the end, though, I doubt even the owner of each cunt
would be able to pick theirs out of a police line up. [...] One
of the chicks, Mandy Bright, is so into it she lets a guy cum in
her swollen pussy, then reapplies the suction cup and siphons the
jizz out, you see it going up the tube, then she removes the rig
and drinks it down. (Chris Nieratko)
Here in the Gross Jar, the objectification or mother object
suffers a hegemonic repression -- a Pandora's Box of toxic
effluent, a ferocious hazard -- womanhood, not with the retro
charms of the 1960s housewife extolling the latest innovation, as
in Honey, We Blew Up Your Pussy, but haunted by her sexuality, a
transgression of taboo, brutalised and degraded in the process of
writing the account. The Gross Jar is a blatant misogynist
insult, yet also a reminder that morality keeps all mortals in a
constricted, suffocating, position. Decomposition, a bacterial
working on a bloated corpse, becomes a viral threat to masculine
or authoritarian forms of control. Hardt and Negri (2000) charge
that
'corruption' is a residue of capitalism, shorn of its
relationship to value (page 389), and one might add, a
condensation of
the drug economy itself.
- VICE is aimed at the young.
Advertisements parade trainers,
skateboards, teenage clothing, music, MTV. Its tone is often
fractured, aggressive and callous -- an irritating, regressive
masculinity rather than the street-smart banter of punk:
IMAGINE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BAND THAT DOES BETTER grindcore than
the thousands of little skirts pumping so-called heavy music
nowadays. Now imagine that you record music at an insane rate of
speed, no fucking frills, basically so that it sounds like it was
done on a boombox in a garage. Then you release the fucking
results on a CD and say, "No copyright!" You'd have to be
stoned, right? Like ultra-mega-blazed, right?
Total Fucking Destruction ARE that
fucking high, because that's exactly what they do!
VICE: What is your band's favourite
drug?
Rich: Beer, girls, vodka, weed and speed.
After the Gross Jar, much of the rest of the magazine is a
disappointment. VICE suffers from pro-forma expositions of
subcultural semiology: that is, there is little innovation in the
idea of style as a form of Refusal, and only repetitions of the
status and meaning of revolt. These were two of the themes Dick
Hebdige (1979) drew out of the novels of Jean Genet: "The
meaning of
subculture is [...] always in dispute, and style is the area in
which opposing definitions clash with most dramatic force"
(ibid, page 3). There are no contradictions here and yet
subculture
lingers in the regressive commentary and a certain
historicisation.
In 2005, one might dispute the revolts of fashion and scene as
mutations on a theme of extortion -- a recuperation of the
bricolage technique that Hebdige asserts as fundamental to
subcultural strategy. However, VICE Magazine is an
escalation in
the terms of conflict. The magazine edition incorporates
historical and subcultural representations of drug use as a
cultural phenomenon and subversive rhetorical strategies made
famous by its post-structuralist forbears (most notably The Face)
to the point of pastiche. God is dead (yawn) and so is man
(literally on pp 32, 38, 59-63, 83, 95, 97, 112); predictably
enough, the medium appears to be the message. "Crime" is
elevated to art by the aestheticisation strategies of profiled
photographers. Christoph Voy wrestles with a disabling absence in
a formalist ripost to realist genre, Thatcher Keats turns to the
high fashion styling, rich colours and fabrics of Vogue (a
subversion of the morality of materials), while Larry Clark's
earlier series evokes the masculine solidarities of Kerouac's On
the Road.
Photo series 1. Friends who died
Photography Christoph Voy, Styling E. Masson, Coordination Hector
Muelas
This is a series of daylight portraits in (east?) European
graveyard(s), ostensibly of young people who have lost a close
friend to overdose. The images are complemented by stylist
information on garment suppliers and a caption at the base of the
page, a short narrative of what led up to the death.
Derrida: What opens meaning and language is writing as the
disappearance of natural presence. The caption functions in this
series as a (purported) personal statement, an account
(fabricated?) of friendship, accident and suicide, a fixing of
(false?) meaning, a negative rendition of the advertising
testimonial, an anti-promotion of the product. Voy's series is a
meditation on absence: of the grave, of warmth (and warm
clothes), an absence of the deceased (deceased as died, deceased
as fiction): a chill negation (toward point zero), neutralised by
a flattened paradox -- image as life while devoid of life;
constructed presentations devoid of censure, manipulation even
emotion. The series resounds with the rhetorical negation: Why
bother?
The series of images and caption sequence is a testimony of
mourning (cf. a walk in a decorative cemetery) as reflective
purgative. However, the caption works to erase the image as the
reader is caught in the neutralising flux of prosaic information
and largely predictable narrative twist. The caption raises the
question: absent friend (what could be more natural in a
graveyard) or absent corpse (naturalised by the anti-realist
convention).
Steve: Stephan Kraus was a very important part of me. He was
extreme and destructive. He used to do 4 grams of heroin, 3 grams
of coke and around 30 downers every day, half a year before he
died. That's when I left him, in order not to be destroyed and so
I could start a new life. He couldn't stand all the pain inside
him. He died in 94, from a heroin overdose (VICE, page 61)
The one dimensionality of the subject's desires ("so I could
start a new life") undermines the narrative of despair. Kraus
(only indicated in the caption) lived and breathed bereavement,
but his lover ("Boots by Chelsea/Underground Shoes London,
shirt by Pepe Jeans, trousers by Dickies, shades by Von Zipper,
jacket model's own") reproduces the discourse of a
functionalist (mediatised) emigration, the marketing of new
towns. As Bob Geldof might say: Look at him! He's not even
wearing the
sunglasses. Pathos is lost via the parody of alienation and
emptiness, and formal repetition (sequence and genre). Textual
statements work towards a distancing of the reader from the truth
claims of documentary or portrait genre. The series demands a
technique of disassociation/1.
Death, distance and difference: Derrida terms the lag inherent in
any signifying act as différance, (to differ/to
defer). An
examination of metonymic displacement (that is, sequence
movement, and a referring out towards other images and codes)
provides this preliminary analysis:
(a) The sequence
- Shifts in location, that is,
partition-repression-exile --
cf. the Gross Jar: hospital, garage, no space, detoxification,
toilet, bathroom, institution.
- Segments of narrative (proairetic coding)
are inflections of
the constructions gender
and loss, gender and rebellion (filmic conventions these, but
also the narrative coding of 1970s girls' magazines); as
well as the dominant narratives (myths) of soul and rock (music
as commodity; culture as excess): adventure,
solidarity, determination, suicide, love, loss, accident,
extremity, escape, despair, abandonment, youth, revenge, near
death, transgression, friendship, relapse, death itself.
- Presence/absence (a heuristic): the
processes of
commemoration and distancing -- action, method, ritual, regret
(these four mark a memory and mourning, a socio-symbolic limit,
production), already past, gone (lost, replay for media
only).
(b) Conventions of the image/text:
- Use of non-models and street fashion
(anti-celebrity,
anti-fashion) was pioneered by The Face and I-D Magazine in the
1980s and paralleled the anti-aesthetic of pop-cultural
tendencies indie, goth and punk. This was a product of the
production process (free working); at once a practical resolution
to the absence of fee and a conscious undermining of high fashion
convention and a celebrity-focused culture. While it began almost
as a statement of poverty, an elaborate play with makeup, weight
loss and genre permitted the development of 'heroin chic' (for a
return to the codes of high fashion, see Thatcher Keats,
below).
- The juxtaposition of fashion stockists
(small print) with
plausible but dull, cheap, day wear is nihilist irony (again from
The Face, c.
1985/6). The professionalisation of styling (the choosing and
buying of garments and objects for photographic sessions)
sustains the process of image production, and is vital for the
ironic inscription of artifice (a moment of doubt in an
ostensibly realist convention, which it overturns).
- Narrative treatment capitalises on a
blurring of convention
between the advertising and editorial image, a fashion staple,
powered here by a process of iteration (repeating/assertion).
Turner (1952) comments that "[t]he testimonial is one of the
least happy features of advertising". Advertising
itself seeks to be persuasive of difference. The narrative
persuasion here, however,
is of an experience that could be one's own. The 'testimonial'
effect shifts to the TV voice-over of cosmetic ads and washing
powder. A functionalised mourning (rectification) becomes a
health/lifestyle promotion (affirmative of the
consumption process only).
The series effects a play on meaning. Barbara Johnson on Derrida
(1981): "To mean in other words is automatically not to
be" (ibid, page ix).
The reader risks being trapped within the productivity of
illusion:
It is not possible to show that the belief in truth is in error
without implicitly believing in the notion of Truth. By the same
token, to show that binary oppositions of metaphysics are
illusions is also [...] to show that such illusions cannot simply
in turn be opposed without repeating the very same illusion.
(ibid, page x)
or conducting a strenuous exhumation of the defining absence:
[T]o disinter différance would thus appear to be a doubly
impossible one: on the one hand, it can only be conducted by
means of notions of revelation, representation, and
rectification, which are the logocentric notions par excellence,
and on the other hand, it can only dig up something that is
really nothing -- a difference, a gap, an interval
(ibid).
It is in this interval that the reader confronts the inherent
falsity of the scenario, the banalities of mediated loss remain
as trace.
Possibilities for interpretation are acutely limited, the reader
confronted by the process of consumption, (opiates,
post-structuralist formalism, pop cultural references), and an
indifference approaching ennui. The series demonstrates pastiche
to the point of annihilation. Devoid of the passion that the
death of friends and loved ones arouses, these images point
toward the futility of representation rather than the lives they
claim to illustrate. And the series "contains as one contains
an enemy, holding in place but defensively" (Stephen Heath on
the film Touch of Evil, quoted by Coward and Ellis, 1977). The
analogy to horror movies is not inappropriate in this play with
Gothic thematic.
Photo series 2. Lifer
Photographer Thatcher Keats, Stylist Sally Penn
Heroin chic parades here as heresy, but the interview with
"Jen", a postgraduate science student and user of heroin
since age 13, gives the benefit of experience -- there are plenty
of tips for safer injection and the minor hazards of long-term
use. The Vogue aesthetic (high fashion) is convincing; studio
closeups (camera as phallus) are immaculately styled -- silk
camisoles, black lace knickers, vintage embroidered shirts,
brocades; an air of a Parisian bordello with US banking
detailing. Subcultural subversion of high fashion staple. Pop
cultural references: high punk (Vivienne Westwood), New York
literary avant-garde (Patti Smith, David Bowie, New York Dolls):
"a self-consciously profane and terminal aesthetic"
(Hebdige, page 27). Hebdige points to the mundane objects that
become
the stigmata of subculture, "tokens of a self-imposed
exile", here, needles, spoons and cutting knives; the model's
State Bank of Sullivan pouch; the expressive forms and rituals of
stigmatised groups (dressing up, regularly-used veins,
positions), and the way in which the tensions between dominant
and subordinate groups are acted out on the surface of subculture
(model's face obscured from view by a fedora; tensions literal in
the arch of the legs, VICE page 76).
"Nothing better conceals the objective collusion which is the
matrix of specifically artistic value than the conflicts through
which it operates" (Bourdieu quoted by Burgin, 1986). Here
the
hegemony of technique projects above the dissident promotion of
heroin use (richness of detail, colour, texture or softness;
safer injection). Such imagery functions here as 'excess', a
safer-sex supplement to welfare state health promotion, and both
reveals and conceals a lack, unmasking an absence at the heart of
patriarchal culture: the flagrant provocations of desire combined
with a rhetoric of transgression (woman, a "properly marginal
presence").
The collision, or collusion, of the Law and Desire is to be found
in all parts of the social formation, as within the subject
itself. Art is perhaps today unique among representational
institutions, however, in that it may now have no function other
than to represent such encounters (Burgin, page
197).
An auto-erotic scenario is "made real" by the brute facts
of injection discussed by the model:
What is the story with the black holes in your groin?
They are called communicating sinuses. A sinus just means a hole.
The vein that I use everyday in my groin is about as thick as my
thumb. Since it's so large the chances of damaging it are small
(although if I did damage it, it would be very bad). The sinuses
are like dimpled scars, little pits that form from repeated use.
The continued use makes the scar form a channel. It bleeds very
little, because my technique is good. New needles cut rather than
tear (VICE, page 72).
Safer techniques are often picked up in an adhoc fashion. VICE
editorial employs a remarkably 'communitarian' approach to the
magazine's otherwise amplified deviant conception.
I definitely wouldn't recommend to a new user that they inject
into their groin. And if you are going to inject drugs, use the
smallest possible needle (Jen, VICE, page 72)
Photo series 3/4. Photographer Larry Clark
Tulsa, Now and Then
Shots from two documentary series, one in black and white, the
other colour. The extent to which monochrome aestheticises the
subject matter is very striking in this juxtaposition. The
earlier (b/w) photos convey a strength in masculine friendships
(Kerouac's myth, pages 88 and 90 upper shot), a shared culture of
intravenous drug use; the individuality of the hallucinating
subject
is retained (page 90, lower shot). An aura of calm and solidarity
pervades the black and white images, and a suggestion lingers
that these users are the children of a wealthier class.
The later photographs are of Latin Americans, a male parent and
child, an adolescent, sharing a spliff, sleeping, confronting the
camera unselfconsciously. The light is bad, and the photos are
tinged with a blue filter. The squalor is unbearable, such meagre
survival is harsh, the living room has a dirty carpet, (things
littered around a chair), and one wants to snatch away the child
for a better home, the sweat is tactile. The representational
process acts here as 'moral entrepreneur'.
The juxtaposition of series is challenging: it suggests a far
greater intensity of drug use in the Latin American images than
is evident in the photos themselves; in reality the rooms are no
more squalid than (at times) the author(s) co-operative house.
The different stylistic treatments effect a symbolisation which
closes the interpretive circuit. White boys: Beat culture, Latin
American family: migrant poverty. One is acutely aware of how
standards of 'photoworthiness' shift over time (a crisis in
representation as the documentary genre was brought into doubt by
techniques of construction and editing), and the 'trauma' that
colour photography has brought to contemporary documentary work.
Changing conceptions of masculinity are also operational here: on
page 89, the Latin American father sits with his daughter (as a
woman off camera passes a joint); on page 91, they sleep in
impromptu fashion, sharing a bare mattress. The thematic here is
an intergenerational solidarity in stark contrast to the free
association of young men focused on intravenous drug use
expressed in the monochrome shots. The 'readerly' effect jolts as
hallucination. Just as a stronger drug than marijuana is implied
in the Latin American scenes, a relocation of the monochrome
'masculine' images occurs (white boys transported to Latin
America).
Clark is presented in the freelancers biography as a seminal
practitioner ("The show is open until June 5, 2006, and it
will make you realise how many people copied and are still
copying this guy" VICE page 22). Such validation (word as
Law) and
reproval for those unversed in documentary photography's
hagiography, is perhaps unnecessary given the power of the
juxtaposition and the contradictory emotions that viewing these
two series entails. It is interesting that as the Author has
declined in importance in literary criticism (none of the feature
writers are profiled on the biographical page), the author as
photographer retains (or has gained) the allure of stardom. The
image is no longer subordinate to the text. The presence of a
major photographer in many ways reduces the power of the images
to speak for themselves. As with literature, the Author becomes
the punctual source of the "text" (the emotive signfier),
while the productivity of visual elements and the (illusory)
autonomy of the image are censored.
Repression notwithstanding, the material issue of payment comes
to the fore. In the Shoreditch fashion-media economy, young
photographers are expected to work routinely on an unwaged basis
(Dazed and Confused, a magazine run by a celebrity photographer,
refuses even to supply film donated or fund accessory staff,
while The Face was founded on the assumption of a 'gift economy'
where students were happy for the chance to work, for a notional
creative autonomy). It is clearly time to make the White Man
quake, for unwaged 'creatives' to take a stand for their own
mutual benefit, to strike for a celebrity wage.
- In 1985/6 The Face ran an iconic
image: a shot of a Palestinian
boy walking through a street on the West Bank or Gaza Strip
amid the intifada. The boy was serene, perhaps happy. Along the
bottom margin of the photo was a tongue-in-cheek detailing of the
clothes the boy was wearing. The technique one might term
'masquerade': here fashion came disguised as politics, disguised
as everyday life, mediated through underdevelopment and conflict:
a strategy of rolling pretence, constantly deferring to another
scenario.
The tactic seems to have entered the subcultural hall of fame.
The joy of the Palestinian photo was not just the serenity of the
ambling subject, it was the ambiguity of the situation, the
heretical irony of politicising a fashion image and neutralising
the political question as an aesthetic at the same moment; any
political reading was left firmly to the reader.
Twenty years on, the rhetorical manoeuvre manifests as a perverse
form of standard media practice in the construction of moral
hazard or 'deviancy amplification': as JockYoung identifies, the
press select events which are atypical, present them in
stereotypical fashion and contrast them against a backcloth of
'normality' which is overtypical (Young, page 35). One might add
with post-structuralist bravado, that from here this
glissement (a sliding of the sign under its other) enters
everyday life, an
aesthetic terror.
Footnote
1. F.W. Turner, author of A Shocking History of Advertising,
relates a suggestion by Aldous Huxley of the need to promote the
art of dissociation from an early age, to counter advertising's
socialisation process, via product design and packaging:
"Chocolates could be wrapped in a paper adorned with
realistic pictures of scorpions, and castor oil and quinine
distributed from containers in the form of Sealyham terriers or
Shirley Temple" (Turner: 12). This is a strategy reminiscent
of the postmodern swing in the applied arts at US design school,
Cranbrook, much publicised in the early 1990s.
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