Black and Blur (consent not to be a single being) by Fred Moten

Author:Fred Moten [Moten, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Duke University Press
Published: 2017-10-12T22:00:00+00:00

chapter 12

Nobody, Everybody

What if we could detach repair not only from restoration but also from the very idea of the original—not so that repair comes first but that it comes before. Then, making and repair are inseparable, devoted to one another, suspended between and beside themselves. Harold Mendez makes changes, out of nothing; flesh, out of absence. His work, which is more + less than that, more + less than his, calls us to that suspense, to the contemplative frenzy of detail, the general meadow of invention, the generative movement of the pre. In this regard, like Francis Ponge, his dictaphonic caress of things, colder than absolute zero, more + less than that, more + less than his, is analyric lysis, the slides and cross-sections, the burning life of a thousand cuts, sounding the absolute look; like Terry Adkins, he recites when he installs, and passing through is our audition and rehearsal, more + less than that, more + less than ours. Off, in and out of your own words that are not your own, right now, which is always before us, repeat after me repeating after him what you must have been saying all along since here you are: the work is at prayer; we are at prayer in the work; in response, we call the work to prayer. To pray for the repose of the general practice of repose is an underconceptual veer from the history of art in order to take the way back into that history’s ground, under that ground, under its skin, at play as the surface burrs, feeling its immeasurable depth, skin underneath itself, all up under that, which is deep, which is the ascendant bottom, where the propositional content of the preposition is nothing but noise, on, off, in, out, over, under, through, fray, merge, fringe, verge, pore, duct, surge, yeah. Surface everywhere and nowhere, if this is who we are, to pray the anoriginal repair.

What if we could prepare, as seal and tarry, this waiting? Fleshwork’s gest and bearing multiplies the veer, as geistic feel. If you look closely, through the solid, one given and taken away as some’s partiality, close enough for the arithmetic of the definite and the indefinite to explode into skin’s transfinite diamonds, then it’s some work going on. Then something unfixed is fixing to happen and there’s an image of something getting ready to take place. Something getting ready to get made and unmade out of nothing up in here. Some fabrication up in here waiting. A vestigial picture of fabric’s event. Preparation shines in suspense, the degenerative and regenerative sight and sound of things, de re, the real, unsettled rim. Trying to prepare the edgework, the anaprepositional surfacework, the underconcept and anechology of earthwork, so we can pray. Wrapped in this radiated weave of sackcloth as prayercloth, trying to prepare the cold, the freeze inside and out that quickens prayerful looking slow as dreamwork. So close to who we are. We’re so close to where we are.

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