Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

April 13, 2026

20 Years after Vertigo

In April 2006, after the end of the first Text Festival, I installed Vertigo, the first exhibition of my own works, in the Sleeper Gallery in Edinburgh. This began my practice of installation writing in which I created site-specific poetic texts responding to the gallery space and/or its location. Thus each of my shows was accompanied by a publication. Vertigo the book had a print run of 50 - as far as I know they sold. By way of anniversary, I include a short extract here: 


                                                                                                      observers assigning times 
and positions to events where every desire is anticipated, except the moment of passing, emptying, wasting men moving with respect can still agree on the time and the distance between their positions measured at equal times separately, then intersect, signifying a collision or encounter along a corridor as dark as poetry in the largest proper time – with liabilities vertigo overlaid. Gravity requires this curvature of rooms must be created in the matter, the embodiment, which artists generally interpret as the tendency to fall over or drop to the floor, the world-lines of art accelerated only by gravity with the longest proper times the never-ending list of plodding numbers. The space of our room fooled us dreaming geometry as a logical necessity each point in the picture represents an event an endpoint in space at a single moment, an orchestrated reduction having only an instantaneous existence. Their whole of history/stroke life, encopresis drill, nondescript years and finally unnatural pallor, a person, persisting in time, not by a point but by a line, the world-line of the person, like art fading out of and into the mist – a text predicated on products rather than the processes clear and white is a room clear and white is everything that is not vertigo



February 08, 2026

Fluents (dyslexia)

 

screenshot of Fluents (dyslexia)

Fluents (dyslexia) Through his visit last year, Christian Bök introduced me to creative nexus Noah Pred, who had recently arrived in Porto from Berlin. Noah is a musician, and creative director and lead developer of Manifest Audio, a “unique ecosystem of integrated devices designed to expand capabilities for sonic artists of all backgrounds and styles on stage, in the studio, and beyond.” Many of his devices are focused on sonification: the process of converting different types of data into music and sound. You can check out Noah’s explorations of Manifest Audio’s powerful creative tools on the YouTube channel: Manifest Audio
Anyway, working with Noah, I have created my first interactive Metamedia poem. Metamedia is a multi-layered, multi-media format developed by Noah for artists working with a variety of media. It was developed in part with poetry in mind, and affords unique possibilities for poetry as a medium in the digital realm. It’s been released as a free format for any artist to experiment with. You can read more about Metamedia from Noah here: https://www.refractionfestival.com/editorial/on-metamedia 
The piece we created is a limited edition reimagining of my poem, ‘Fluents’, originally published my book 50 Heads, at the time the most actively engaged with the struggle of writing through my dyslexia – hence the added parenthesis in the title. It’s constructed from a series of elements, an installation shot of my exhibition of Vertigo in the Sleeper Gallery, Edinburgh, the sonification  | (Creative Tools for Ableton Live of the text), the text’s animation and logic diagrams mapping the tree of moments, layered in interactivity. 
See/hear and experiment with the layers of Fluents (dyslexia) at: https://teia.art/objkt/876928/ 
The work is hosted on Teia, a non-profit, artist-run, open-source online platform for trading digital assets as NFT “OBJKT”s; “a collaborative artwork made of artworks, a place for ideas and creative works.” The point is not to speculate or generate income (the cost to “collect” one is currently less than $0.50 USD) - but rather to host it online long-term using Teia’s IFS (Interplanetary File Storage), a decentralized file hosting network. To interact with the layers of the piece, hover your mouse over the poem at which point a play control will appear along with toggles for the various layers which you can turn on and off to explore different layers of the work.

October 24, 2025

*rare as rubricators

With the Genius Cantos such an epic labour, I felt the urge to produce something short and quick, hence: 

*rare as rubricators.

It features five short poems: 'Et in Arcadia Ego', 'The Battle of Kohima', 'Identity', 'Pink Noise' and 'Hospital', plus extracts from Cantos LXXX (The Clowde of Knowyng), LXXXI (Urim Thummim), and Canto LXXXIII  (Sociedade do cansaço).

It's a limited edition; email me if you'd like a copy. 

June 21, 2025

Genius, Novel and Thoughtcrime

As mentioned in the previous blog, my focus has been away from public activity, while there’s been a lot going on. Now more settled, Barcelos and its surrounds has fast become the favoured location for our long-term residence. This year I had a notional schedule to blog the Text Festival anniversaries to lead into posts on my latest theories arising from that experience and dialogues in literature and current state of geopolitics. The first element of blogging happened but the Barcelos move left a bigger gap than I had anticipated. So, now to get back on track, ensconced paradisaically peripheral (a state which I’ve always preferred to occupy), I feel more inclined to insert a ‘progress overview’ before moving on to the meat of the matters – to paraphrase Louis Althusser, a theoretical text is affected in its modality and dispositive by practice. Where are we up to after my last update in 2023?

The Genius Cantos

The explanation of why I needed to take on Ezra Pound’s Pisan Cantos from a communist perspective can be found in the 2023 blog, but in the context of the impending global catastrophe, Pound’s location at the end of the Second World War makes this project more imperatively poised at the beginning of Third World War. As my first Canto (LXXIV) observes:

Blind. Silent. Jesus asked: is this resurrection?

            Truth can only be half-said’

                        this is the war cantos

cadaver eyes upon me see … nothing,

                                                USICA soaked

bring me the head of stupid

a world where Xi is synonymous Salazar - this ain’t,

warrior queens repurposed glossator utopias 

Rome did shall perish in the blood she has spilt,

            holding democracy in contempt, as we should

leech-gatherers.


Genius is still in progress; Cantos so far completed – with their thematic dynamic – are:

 

LXXIV (The Axiom of Separation)

LXXV (Space)

LXXVI (Interiority)

LXXVII (The Marriage of Heaven and Hell)

LXXVIII (In the spring and autumn)

Responses from a select group of trenchant readers and critics have been gratifying so far. Of the other Cantos, ‘Toussaint Rouge’, ‘The Clowde of Knowyng’ and ‘Toward Interregnum Closure’ being written concurrently and are all about halfway in:

LXXIX (Toussaint Rouge)

LXXX (Sociedade do cansaço)

LXXXI (Urim Thummim)

LXXXII (The Clowde of Knowyng)

LXXXIII (Incoherence)

LXXXIV (Toward Interregnum Closure)

One of the initiating factors for writing Genius was its pivotal contribution to a projected sequence of novels, however, the poem’s own epic logic and its obligation and objective to respond to the gathering fascistic darkness in the world have intensified its independent urgency.

Poetry as Thoughtcrime

I have blogged about this contextually three or four times (Poetry as Thoughtcrime and In Search of Method). I have developed the promised theoretical framework and a manifesto for future literary resistance, but it has not felt useful for my own creative output to articulate it here. I could romanticise this as a sort of Fermat’s Last Theorem margin throwaway  but I confess also it is a mix of laziness and my propensity to be interested in the next problem rather than the last. According to Alain Badiou’s ‘Ethics: An Essay on the Understanding of Evil’, my failure to articulate the discovery of this fidelity is “Evil in the sense of betrayal”; I feel the guilt of that sin and will fulfil my duty shortly after this blog.

Novel

Truth be told, I have already tested my theory, let’s call it what it is – manifesto, with artistic and literary peers. The main criticism being that my focus on poetry is too narrow because its strategies apply equally well across art practice in general, analogous to Tristan Tzara or André Breton in relation of manifesto to movement. I don’t intend to expand my thinking in this direction, simply because of my self-defeating tendency to think too big. But while my creative output has been focused on ‘Genius’ this year, ie the associated novels on hold, I have been indulging myself with applying the manifesto to literature in general, which has initiated another project called ‘Novel’, triggered by Kundera’s Art of the Novel, Calvino’s Literature Machine, Blanchot, Ricardou, Lukács, etc. This is a book of essays investigating questions of fictive form and practice, and literary imperatives facing apocalypse. One entertaining me at the moment is examination of the generalist fallacy of canon and a provocative alternative approach. Instead of the ubiquitous and facile list of the 50 or 100 best books of all time, the question is what do those books that are thusly categorized do? And what are the ontological connections between one ‘great’ book and another(s)? According to what principle are the component elements of the texts related to each other? On this latter, I have adopted structural concepts of ‘Place’, ‘Form’, ‘Endurance’, ‘Space’. By way of a taster, within ‘my’ canonical list, I am working on comparative analysis of deBeauvoir’s ‘The Mandarins’ to Marquez’s ‘100 Years of Solitude’; Simon’s ‘Georgics’ to Pynchon’s ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ and Vonnegut’s ‘Hocus Pocus’ (most best books lists go with ‘Slaughterhouse 5’ which I attribute to lazy readers); Shute’s ‘On The Beach’ to de Saint-Exupery’s ‘Flight to Arras’ and Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’; Robbe-Grillet’s ‘The Voyeur’ with Golding’s ‘The Inheritors’ and Iain M. Banks’ ‘Excession’; Hesses’ ‘Glass Bead Game’ to Dick’s ‘The Man in the High Castle’ and Bulgakov’s ‘The Master and Margarita’. Etc.




 

December 01, 2024

con creta - Leiria

 Having done virtually no research about Leiria before I arrived, I was very enamored with it - a very charming little town, given what I imagine was an extra frisson by the near complete decoration of the centre for Christmas. I was a bit early for the start of the letra festival, so I visited the Banco das artes galeria for an exhibition of (primarily) drawing by Álvaro Siza – Drawings. Banco das Artes Galeria, Leiria. Obviously I'm very familiar with his architecture (his famous School of Architecture is at the end of our street), but his drawings were a revelation. No Photos allowed so you can look it up. 

con creta catalogue
Then I went to the Galeria Quattro for an installation of concrete poetry from the collection of Fernando Aguiar curated by Sal Nunkachov


From there we moved to Sal's miraculous shop/workshop of concrete and sound poetry Paperviewbooks  where I bought what must be the book of my year Derek Beaulieu's Catalogue Saisonée  and Christian Bok's new (blue) umlautmachine 

Sadly, I had to return to Porto before the evening performances but Christian will be coming north for a few days next so I'll find out what I missed. 



November 26, 2024

letra: mostra de poesia sonora e concreta leiria 30 de novembro de 2024

 

letra

mostra de poesia sonora e concreta

leiria 30 de novembro de 2024

Carolina Drave

Carolina Drave

Christian Bök

Christian Bök

Cia Rinne

Cia Rinne

Diogo Marques

Diogo MarquesFernando Aguiar

Fernando Aguiar

Nuno Moura

Nuno Moura

Paula Cortes

Paula Cortes

Simão Collares


For more information:

June 24, 2024

AI – Against Interpretation


“It would probably not be beyond human ingenuity to write books by machinery.” George Orwell 

AI Prompt: write a pop song using Schönberg’s 12-note scale celebrating a time-traveler's deletion of that bastard Brahms from this timeline:

The question of what art is: Joseph Beuys: “The thing that was missing was that all these fundamental questions, that is, the fundamental research into art and its function, could not be answered at the Academy,” or by Artificial Intelligence.

AI language games are directed towards/focused on answering inane questions, not fundamental questions; its baby-paws grasp after graffiti equivalence, DPRK candy realism, the desperate urge to it-looks-like representation – count each hair on that cat - O and/or plastic abstract neatness. New car shiny. As with every new technology from oil paint to Augmented Reality, the Paradigm: artists and pornographers take up the challenge to push it beyond its material limits to explore or predict the technology ('tis a consummation devoutly to be wished by Capital juggling “a world defined by new and complex regimes of differentiation and homogenization, deterritorialization and reterritorialization” – Negri+Hardt). AI’s Eternal September to ‘create’ is ‘exponential’, they say, the adjective triggers fear in some/fearsome – FEAR a system requirement – fictively we anticipate Cyberdyne Technologies, Elysium, or Brain Salad Surgery “I’m perfect. Are you?”: all AI literature descends to an end-digit, redundancy, extinction.


AI Prompt: Reimagine Duchamp’s ‘Opposition and Sister Squares are Reconciled’ as if Duchamp had been Mikhail Tal in his 1959 match against Dieter Keller

True or manufactured, manufactured or true, the media reports two responses from the ‘cultural’ sector: the early adopters embrace it, and the luddites design a  ‘Human Artistry’ campaign kitemark. This is no more than a repetition, repetition, an evolutionary categorisation of late capitalism, consumption, surplus value increased with the artificial means of production in the hands of the few, ‘all-human’ production having as much relevance to this model as Sunday painters have to the Venice Biennale. 




AI Prompt: Create a concrete porn-poem featuring a Monkey Christ and two cats

As with every new artistic tool, the quality of work produced has a direct relationship to the talent or vision of the human experimenting with it. There’s always a Leonardo who paints the Last Supper in oil on plaster, so it takes centuries of restorers to stop it flaking off the wall. We sit in that refectory as intended.

AI Prompt: Create a 1980’s playlist for DJ Dostoevsky

Ironically the Leonardo’s are the most dangerous to the capitalist paradigm. Bertran de Born and the pop song writers who whinge about how ‘terrifying’ it is that pop could be completely appropriated by AI need to listen to themselves, that boat sailed some time ago. I am reminded of an interview I heard on Radio 1 in the 1980’s with Martin Fry, lead singer of the band ABC, in which he opined that if Dostoevsky was alive in the 80’s he would be DJing in Covent Garden. I remember laughing out loud and like to think that I spat out my coffee. (I wonder whether anyone else remembers that statement? Roy Batty: ‘I've seen things you people wouldn't believe... Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion... I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain… at the end of that tea ceremony in Taipei).

AI Prompt: Design a sampler font which represents Saul Bellow’s description of seeing Trotsky’s corpse in the Mexican hospital in 1940.

Dostoyevsky: “I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me.” Bellow: “If I am out of my mind, it’s all right with me, thought Moses Herzog” –      "the periphery still reproduces itself as the periphery.” This was my mistake. I tried to make the peripheral central: it was contraindicated all along.

Ai is the revenge of a kindergarten intellect upon art… violate art - based on the highly dubious theory that a work of art is composed of items of content. “It makes art into an article for use, for arrangement into a mental scheme of categories,” observes Susan Sontag. The Handbook of Inaesthetics notes “[a work of art] sets itself up as an inquiry into the question of its own finality. It is the persuasive procedure of its own finitude. This is, after all, why the artwork is irreplaceable in all of its points (another trait that distinguishes it from the generic infinite of the true): Once ‘left’ to its own immanent ends, it is as it will forever be.” Sylvain Lazarus asks whether there may “exist a regime of the thinkable that is inaccessible to this total jurisdiction of language.” The answer is obviously YES. I count five just in this post.

A truth is something we make. It is declared, composed, and upheld by the subjects it convokes and sustains. “Our world is full of copiers and repeaters, ... It is better to interpret than to compose; it is better to have an opinion on a decision that has already been made than to make one’s own. The modern illness is the engulfing of the new in the duplicata, the engulfing of intelligence in the pleasure of the homogeneous” (Michel Serres) but it’s hard. “No bird has the heart to sing in a thicket of questions,” says René Char

AI Prompt: Choreograph a pustulant pavane for James Daly MP in the style of Charlemagne Palestine’s Schlongo!! 

To show willin’: I gave AI a couple of chances while writing this: its DJ Dostoevsky generated nothing more than a 80s playlist and its Pavane was literally a description of dancers imitating spots bursting which scraped to the technical level infant school play. AI embarrassed itself. To anyone saying 'ah, but maybe AI is still at the level of a child.' I say child art is of no interest to anyone except to the parents.

AI Prompt: what would it mean if  


Christian Bök has claimed poetry in the future will be written by machines for other machines to read – but like humans, the poetry machines won’t be paid for their works and the poetry reading machines will be a tiny group that turn up to performances on a wet Tuesday night in a room over a pub. In the words of the Irish gangster – “who fucking cares?”


Or as Tom Raworth wrote:  

Lion Lion

the happy hunters are coming back

eager to be captured, to have someone unravel the knot

but nobody can understand the writing

in the book they found in the lion’s lair.

May 13, 2023

The Last International Poetry Dog Day

This would have been the 15th birthday of Barney, the famous Poetry Dog - he missed it by one month. We have been touched by the outpouring of condolence for him. So I thought a last acknowledgement of his status in the Poetry World was a suitable memorial. 

Ron Silliman, Tony Lopez, Tony Trehy, Christian Bök (Text Festival)




May 01, 2023

The King's Basement

 



The King’s Basement

 

Bedside manners are extra prayers empty,

As succession entropic acts

A new stamp a new head posted to Ipatiev House.

Usurping timorous laureation we must to Ipatiev House

Search engines at the ready, to calculate the difference … a falling blade,

A spike, a headshot, a poll ending with a hung result.

 

Coronation words and celebratory foods, chicken, charcuntery, and inertia

Until when the poor will eat promises

All unusual and active vectors orient to Ipatiev House,

The Rite of Passage for all kings.

Search engine differentials calculate the museological relevance of a meat-hook,

    or a headshot, a poll resulting in a crumbling Bourbon end.

Big fat hands gasping for air – as entitlement is to justified, as ascension is to basement.

 


April 04, 2023

The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas

On social media, at the beginning of the war, the CIA unleased an army of twitter 'campaigners'/bots supporting Ukraine (at the same time preparing cyber tactics for Taiwan for the coming war with China which the US will manufacture after the Ukraine). They created the identities in the first instance by appropriating a subculture from computer gaming where cool teen gamers used cartoon dog-human hybrids as their avatars and called themselves 'fellas'. The second 'anti-China' 'army' similarly adopted an animal persona - this time Winnie the Pooh, because there had previously been a campaign suggesting that Xi Jinping looked like Pooh and had therefore banned Winnie the Pooh from China - untrue of course. If you look at Fella twitter accounts they often don't even hide their location is 'Langley' (the CIA HQ). It initiates pile-ons, cyber bullying and abuse campaigns, as you'd expect frequently racist and misogynist. Yesterday, a North Atlantic Fellas Organisation (NAFO) dog replaced the blue bird logo with their trademark dog-face - it is unclear whether this is an actual hack or a Elon Musk marketing stunt related to a court case; either way, I wrote this poem some months ago in response to the Fellas but the twitter hack seems make this a good time to post it. 


The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas

And did those in ancient time walk upon mountains?

And was the anonymous pleasant pasture anxious?

And when the oozing flood conspired to the anthropomorph,

And assertive hope was mocked to undermine,

And mills still Satanic, though closed and burned out

      For future residential development

               or locations for cold people to starve.

As bristling musculature stared at screens and, chewing,

As if cry havoc dogs and wagin' doges, callin’ tantrum chagrin for war

As if broadcasting pustular to its proud constituency of residual pornocrats,

Ageing as futureless empires do, sanded in desert storms lost, herniated,

 burger fat believers in a half-century pre-dream state,

as if every night, without fail, the bijouterie of Winnie and adrenal Shiba Fellas struts

that banal masturbatory oath. 



December 26, 2022

Stalin

The other day I was calling out the latest American Empire colour revolution on social media. It doesn't matter which one it was because I've counted another 2 or 3 more since I posted it. Anyway, some big-gob/bot/whatever (unknown to me but apparently a follower of other people I know), barged onto my time-line to accuse me of being a 'Stalinoid'. Hard to think of a more adolescently feeble 'insult', but it reminded me that while back I wrote a two-part piece about Stalin for my 'Dyer & Mahfouz' Collection. So this is a good excuse to roll it out:


The Birth of Stalin

Gerard Trehy had been an active shop steward in the building trade in the 1960s. He’d stood against old style bosses alongside the legendary firebrand Union man, ‘Red’ Eric Heffer. So, when I began work, my very first job, and almost immediately got ‘volunteered’/put myself forward to be a shop steward, I asked for his advice. He said: “the thing to watch out for is at some future union meeting or stewards committee, the top table will report that the employers have proposed some terrible change to working conditions or pay or holidays, whatever. And the bloke beside you will lean over and say – here, that’s outrageous, we can’t let them get away with that. Etc. etc. and he’ll get you wound up and feed you ammunition, make you angry to such a point that you will stand up and make an impassioned speech about how the union needs to stand and fight. And you will pull everyone else up to that pitch and the top table will agree to confront the bosses and you’ll be volunteered to be at the forefront because you are so passionate. And later when things get difficult, the bloke who sat next to you won’t be anywhere to be seen.”

And true enough, in only my second or third stewards meeting, the branch secretary reported an outrageous stunt from the bosses, and I leant over to the steward sitting next to me and said: “Here, we can’t let them get away with that. That’s fucking outrageous.”


The Triumph of Stalin

In the spring of this dissymmetry, singular and true, I am Stalin qua Stalin, to

the big picture, shaping the new individual, indexed to the double scission, 

fifth of five but with renewed undeniable music; I am remembered, 

fond of binary meets, the very Idea secretary of all meets and all joins

the warmth, the warmth in that household to preserve

an infinitely expanding tautology of action, singular and true, A

determination unsympathetic and dismissive assertions,

appropriations under-specified and my model axiom:

 “Never ask, command.”

        and by all accounts

    I won, to be fair.

 



 

December 05, 2022

Broadside


Soon after arriving in Portugal, I was introduced to the American artist Marsha McDonald by the inestimable Marton Koppany. It's a small world since it appears there's a fair degree of overlap between our networks, but we didn't know of each other until we met in Porto. It turns out that we also have a mutual friend in Robert Grenier, and maybe in a nod to the form of his 'Sentences', Marsha and I have collaborated on a Limited Edition 'Broadside'. 

The set of 7 prints features Marsha's photography juxtaposed with four of my new poems (Indigo, The Last Time, The Tree of Moments, and Types of Failure. 





They are available from me (tonytrehy@ymail.com) or Marsha (marsham6@gmail.com)
 for 10 euros (plus postage/packaging).




February 03, 2021

Winter with Helmut Lemke


the WINTER on Vimeo 

Helmut Lemke posts 'Winter', the last in his seasonal art 'lectures' featuring his reading of my specially written poem: 

Zugzwang as the Fourth Part registering Transition to Rumours of Winter and End 

Transition from rumours of winter, positional to suns rising over there (points in that direction) rather than over there (points in that direction).

Record suns replace cold lyric frost

Counting as

Drift

As Autumn’s pension arrangements are now irrelevant to the quartet. To hang on . . .                                                                                                    to hang on

To the field of action mostly taking place at night or winter daylight, passed celebrating the cold last day,

The series addition delays to die in the gap, immortal but only by implication, by hope, by leaving the new clear to go on

precarious in Queue Theory

waking each morning darker

our moment of inertia and the failing capacity to self-heal telomere degradation

This rhythm of fourths, a promise we aim to break, weakened, diagnosed, conditioned to lose

winter as weary

our Lévy Flight bouncing between this point and that point

frantic without knowing

the unannealed countdown

…eighth, twenty-ninth, thirtieth, thirty-first.


July 20, 2020

Poetry as Thoughtcrime


The Poetic Imperative in the Age of Surveillance

In returning to writing from curating, I find the absence of a unified theory of poetry distracting, especially in these dark times. I have “Architecture & Now” (my poem with Maurice Shapero’s architectural drawings) coming out shortly and my hybrid-poetry collection “Dyer & Mahfouz” is rapidly taking shape, but a theoretical framework is missing. Thus, I am preparing just that: “Poetry as Thoughtcrime”. This aims to examine the huge existential problem facing contemporary writing and includes my manifesto for what to do about it. The analysis flows from the curatorial practice developed in the Text Festivals from 2005 to 2014. After that, I was creatively focused on the projects in China, which took my attention away from theoretical and practical next steps that should follow from the Text. In retrospect, this post-Text hiatus gave me a parallax view and distance from which my vision for the future could mature.

The full analysis will be available soon as a publication, but with the request from Synapse for an extract, and the near apocalyptic turn of world events in 2020, it feels imperative to offer some form of the new thinking. The starting point for any analysis of future direction has to acknowledge the backdrop of the crises of Late Capitalism, Brexit, Trump, and of course the big one, climate catastrophe; in this truncated disaster timescape, the hope that the post-virus world will be a brighter future already looks delusional; indeed, though I have referenced capitalism as the evil, there are credible arguments that it has already been replaced by an economic system that is even worse .
When Mark Fisher bleakly observed “it is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” you sort of optimistically imagine that he meant capitalism being ended with something better. Anyway, increasingly the massive crisis of the pandemic and capitalism’s responsibility and response continues to fit my initial analysis of the dangers we face as humans, and specifically, the challenge for writers isn’t materially changed.

My analysis does have an implicit fatalism – the longer version of this essay investigates the implication of writing in the countdown to extinction.

My project then will be as follows: as with all manifestos, the opening essay (a taster for which this is) is an analysis for the scale of the dangers we face – ‘Poetry as Thoughtcrime’. This is followed by a Manifesto, which posits an imperative direction for writing, and, more specifically, a unified theory for poetry in this age of multiple global crisis. In support of this statement and proposal, there are a series of related essays examining the implications for literary production which include a new vision for internationalism, a recognition of the inadequacy of Conceptual Poetry to meet the challenges, the poetic space within Post-Truth and the distractions/implications of dominant tropes in popular culture.

There are two ‘problems’ writers no longer have. From Albert Camus “A writer writes to a great extent to be read (as for those who say they don’t, let us admire them but not believe them).” And from Derek Beaulieu - “Don’t protect your artwork. Give it away. Trust your audience. Be your own pirate.” We have entered the age when everything is read and you don’t have to give your artwork away, because it is taken at the moment of conception. In fact, more than that, writing will soon be heteronomically manipulated in advance of its creation. In this regard, as the conceptualist writers argue, writers will not be the special category which they have claimed for themselves, as we progress into the end of Personhood.

In the full essay, I expand on the threats to Personhood (“You”) through three dynamic appropriations: commodification of consciousness, addictive attention sequestration and behaviour manipulation. For the sake of brevity here, I will just touch on some of the main sources of analysis. Shoshana Zuboff’s ‘The Age of Surveillance Capitalism’ articulates the final stage of capitalism where humans themselves are the commodity, humans are ‘farmed’:
“Surveillance capitalism migrated to Facebook, Microsoft and Amazon – and became the default option in most of the tech sector. It now advances across the economy from insurance, to retail, finance, health, education and more, including every “smart” product and “personalised” service.” … “Surveillance capitalism unilaterally claims human experience as free raw material for translation into behavioural data … fabricated into prediction products that anticipate what you will do now, soon, and later”. So “Computer-based personality judgements are more accurate than those made by humans” - Facebook knows you better than members of your own family do. “The team found that their software was able to predict a study participant’s personality more accurately than a work colleague by analysing just 10 ‘likes’’; and “Belgian police now say that the Facebook is using ‘likes’ as a way of collecting information about people and deciding how best to advertise to them. As such, it has warned people that they should avoid using the buttons if they want to preserve their privacy” (Andrew Griffin, the Independent). With personal data becoming the world’s most valuable commodity, the best analogy I’ve seen comes from Digital Ethicist Tristan Harris where he likens the digital model of you to a voodoo doll. Every action you take, real or digital, updates a more perfect copy of you which can then be used to predict what you will think, do or consume next, but more than that it can be tested, digital ‘pins’ can be poked into it to see how the real you will react to stimulus, and building on that, can be used to alter you. Algorithms are developing in ways that allow companies to profit from our past, present, and future behaviour – or what Shoshana Zuboff describes as our “behavioural surplus.”

You’ve already heard this. You know that your data is farmed. You know governments sell citizens’ records to the private sector. You know that facial recognition and location technologies have started following you – you’ve seen it on TV from China, cameras that identify citizens crossing the road wrong, etc. Every time you upload a photo, every time you download an app that makes an comic avatar of you or turns your selfie into a Renaissance style painting, or shows what you’d look like if you were a different gender, etc, you give more of yourself away, and make the software better at recognising everybody else.
Even more extreme Microsoft were, until recently exposed, working with the Israelis on implant technology for children; and under cover of the pandemic the transnational digital passport system ID2020 is actively being promoted, which will be able to restrict movement on the basis of your health status. It’s no coincidence that American police departments are using Covid Tracking Apps to identify Black Lives Matter protestors. “The internet is, in its essence, a machine of surveillance. It divides the flow of data into small, traceable, and reversible operations, thus exposing every user to surveillance”, writes Boris Groys.

Predictive data will tune and herd our behaviour towards the most profitable outcomes. It is not enough to automate information about us; we need to be consumable consumers. As one data scientist observed: “We can engineer the context around a particular behaviour, and force change that way … We are learning how to write the music, and then we let the music make them dance.”  Herbert Marcuse wrote in One Dimensional Man “The music of the soul is also the music of salesmanship. Exchange value, not truth value counts. On it centres the rationality of the status quo, and all alien rationality is bent to it.”
The final step will be AI. One might imagine that AI research is driven by the spirit of philosophic or scientific enquiry, but fundamentally it is business driven: AI, when successful, will be able to work faster, cheaper and beyond the limits of labour laws. With human factory labour already replaced, companies like Google, Amazon and Facebook have the automation of white-collar jobs directly within their sights. “It is no surprise that the idea of creative machines is coterminous with the ascent of platform capitalism. Art is among the last problems for which a human is still the best solution. No ruling class can exist without an appeal to the aesthetic, as almost any page from art history will show. To administer the aesthetic – to control the terms of what counts as an image, or what constitutes art – is to rule both the mind and the body, to influence the whole sensate world of human emotion and expression.” Mike Pepi (Frieze).

The world has become more digital in response to the Covid19 lockdowns, so the dynamics of control and subsummation are magnified. You may think that this is over-egging the threat of Surveillance and even that this is a First World anxiety, but the combination of corporate capitalism, rapidly expanding dictatorships and controlling propensity of neoliberal-fascist government, there are numerous examples of not only the dangerous direction of travel but significant inhuman initiatives. Orwell’s prediction - “Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimetres inside your skull” will be surpassed very soon when that few centimetres has gone too. 
This is not a luddite rejection of the digital, we can only live in now, the 21st Century. But facing a more voracious form of capitalism: how can artists respond? Artists responses to surveillance hegemony fall into 3 categories (ignoring the blind innocents farmed as human cattle):

Lamentation - “the Internet, completely and unreflectively subject to market processes and dedicated to monopolists, controls gigantic quantities of data used not at all pansophically, for the broader access to information, but on the contrary, serving above all to program the behaviour of users, as we learned after the Cambridge Analytica affair. Instead of hearing the harmony of the world, we have heard a cacophony of sounds, an unbearable static in which we try, in despair, to pick up on some quieter melody, even the weakest beat.” Olga Tokarczuk (Nobel Lecture)
Compromised Embrace - There are writers, certainly within the Uncreative/Conceptual movement who piratically celebrate the ‘creative’ utility of technology, the prospect of AI creativity, the literate viruses etc, etc., but in the context of this consciousness Final Solution, their commitment is reminiscent of  Buddhist Monks willing to self-immolate: they prove their absolute belief; you can be impressed with their rigour and their faith but you have considerable doubt that they will be reborn in their next life. Notwithstanding this zeal and accepting that conceptual literary techniques will have a place in the way forward I will propose, we can also accept that there will be writers and readers who will choose subsummation.
Subversion – There are many technology critical artists mostly reliant on guerrilla or subversive utilisation of digital tools – a good example is Pip Thornton’s ground-breaking critiquing of linguistic capitalism using the system algorithms themselves to question the appropriation of value.

I contend that these strategies ultimately fail to free human creativity. None of them address the scale of the threat and will be subsumed by it. So where does poetry come in? Without Romanticism or wishful thinking, how is poetry answer to be all-consuming capitalist behemoth? After all, if you look at the canonical moments when poetry is addressed seriously, it doesn’t generally measure up. Everyone’s first thought, of course: Plato bans it from the Republic; and the go-to in times of totalitarian threat, George Orwell is even less enthusiastic: “There can be no doubt that in our civilization poetry is by far the most discredited of the arts, the only art, indeed, in which the average man refuses to discern any value. Arnold Bennett was hardly exaggerating when he said that in the English-speaking countries the word ‘poetry’ would disperse a crowd quicker than a fire-hose.”  Interestingly though, Orwell soften his dismissal of poetry in the context of the totalitarian: “Poetry might survive, in a totalitarian age, and certain arts or half-arts, such as architecture, might even find tyranny beneficial,” and “It follows that the atmosphere of totalitarianism is deadly to any kind of prose writer, though a poet … might possible find it breathable.” Maybe his observation of discredit becomes a utility: “It is not certain whether the effects of totalitarianism upon verse need be so deadly as its effect on prose … To begin with, bureaucrats and other ‘practical’ men usually despise the poet too deeply to be much interested in what he is saying…It is therefore fairly easy for a poet to keep away from dangerous subjects and avoid uttering heresies: and even when he does utter them, they may escape notice”.  It would be a pretty lame revolutionary claim to posit irrelevance and inefficacy as the resistance space against Surveillance Capitalist. However, these ‘weaknesses’ have the strength in the context of the commodification of Personhood of being an agency with intrinsically no value. As Guy Debord observed: “Poetry is becoming more and more clearly the empty space, the antimatter, of consumer society, since it is not consumable”. So, in this historic moment of crisis, where the omniscient god they have created turns to consumption of us, its flock - Poetry is thoughtcrime. But how do you commit that crime? There are already programmes that create artificial poetry. So, poetry as thoughtcrime must take a specific resistance form: I will lay out what that is in the second (Manifesto) essay.

Overcasting (Databolism) - Noah Pred

  As mentioned in the last post, it's always been the objective to make our context conducive for artists to create and think, that was ...