- Right to the city
- Sous les pavés, la plage
- Creative Classes
- Smart city
- Culture Jam
- Society of the spectacle
- what was the hipster?
- weaponised design
- politics of play
Protestant work ethic versus dilemmas of collective hyperactivity. Gamification versus temporary autonomous zone. Spectacle. PLUR, summers of love, Genesis P-Orridge Situationists, Marcuse, Lettrists, punks, voguers and ravers. Culture jammers, adbusters, zinesters, tactical media. Netcultures. Guerilla gardeners. DIY. Grime and hip hop. Leisured classes. Commodification of dissent. Mishan. Bey. Jaromil. Gentrification, hypergentrification, hipsterism. The problematic of proponents of this type of engagement interacting with (and idolising) those who might not have choice about their “playful” engagements - e.g. the hipster currency of Zapatistas. The mining of creative resistance for new strategies by the dominant. Crunkczar.
Scott Alexander, Those Modern Pathologies
[…] a sort of productivity fetish, a mindset where anything that doesn’t leave a material token didn’t really happen. Enjoyed the company of your closest friends? Not real unless you put the pictures on Facebook, tagged #bestiesforever. Broadened your horizons with a trip to another culture? Not real without crushed pennies or some other gift-shop tchotchke. Met your soulmate? Not real unless you’ve got a lump of screaming flesh to show for it
Anna Khachiyan, Open Marriage is a Neoliberal Pathology:
[…]because I can’t ever seem to keep my dick in my pants when it comes to the liberal media’s pseudoscientific warblings on love and sex, here’s my unpopular opinion: the marriage institution is in some ways preferable to the sexual gig economy of neoliberal hookup culture because, if nothing else, it frees people from the tyranny of choice and forces them to subordinate their will to others, both of which are essential parts of becoming an adult.
Open marriage, on the other hand, is a uniquely modern pathology in that it appeals to those who resent having to conform to a standard but for whom the existential terror of not conforming to any standard is too great. Like so much of our culture—co-working arrangements, the self-help and self-care industries, service apps, etc.—it encourages people to dwell in a state of perpetual adolescence, enjoying all the comforts of the old way of doing things while discarding all of the inconveniences (which are repackaged as, in the trendy, millennial market lingo of Silicon Valley, as “inefficiencies”).
Gavin Mueller: Silent Majority Music:
But there’s one important sound that has been removed in this refurbishing process: EDM trap is mostly instrumental. By dispensing with the rapping, EDM trap effectively silences the black voices that kept the style connected to the stories of the American lumpenproletariat. It’s the auditory equivalent of kicking out a poor family so you can live in their classic brownstone. In the words of one of the dance underground’s sharpest figures, Rizzla DJ: “Damn, son, put that back where you found it!”
Thaemlitz’s approach to DJing is uncomfortable, because it doesn’t just question our aesthetics, but forces us to re-think our entire notion of the dancefloor experience, to leave our comfort zones and become active participants instead of passive consumers. If that doesn’t sound like an explosive cocktail, then you clearly haven’t been out dancing for a long time.
Mark Greif, 2010, what was the hipster?:
Indeed, the White Hipster—the style that suddenly emerged in 1999—inverted Broyard’s model to particularly unpleasant effect. Let me recall a string of keywords: trucker hats; undershirts called “wifebeaters,” worn alone; the aesthetic of basement rec-room pornography, flash-lit Polaroids, and fake-wood paneling; Pabst Blue Ribbon; “porno” or “pedophile” mustaches; aviator glasses; Americana T-shirts from church socials and pig roasts; tube socks; the late albums of Johnny Cash; tattoos.
Key institutions were the fashion magazine Vice, which moved to New York from Montreal in 1999 and drew on casual racism and porn to refresh traditional women’s-magazine features (“It Happened,” “Dos and Don’ts”) and overcome the stigma of boys looking at photos of clothes; Alife, the hipster-branding consultancy–cum–sneaker store, also launched in 1999, staffed by employees who claimed a rebel background in punk/skateboarding/graffiti to justify why they were now in retail sportswear; and American Apparel, which launched in L.A. in 1997 as an anti-sweatshop T-shirt manufacturer and gradually changed its advertising focus from progressive labor practices to amateur soft-core porn.
These were the most visible emblems of a small and surprising subculture, where the source of a priori knowledge seemed to be nostalgia for suburban whiteness. As the White Negro had once fetishized blackness, the White Hipster fetishized the violence, instinctiveness, and rebelliousness of lower-middle-class “white trash.” “I love being white, and I think it’s something to be proud of,” Vice founder Gavin McInnes told the Times in 2003.
It used to be that cultural capital and economic capital were separate spheres, and absolutely not interconvertible. There were no cool rich kids, or those who were hid their economic capital. (The word “cool”, in fact, originated with socially and politically disenfranchised African-Americans; in its original meaning, the word didn’t mean chic, fashionable or at the top of the status hierarchy, but referred to an unflappability, an unwillingness to let the constant low-level (and not so low-level) insults and aggressions of an institutionally racist and classist system be seen to get you down; as such, it was, by definition, the riches of the poor, the exclusive capital of those excluded from capital.)
[…]with the dismantling of free education, the rise in income inequality, and the gentrification of “cool” areas full of the young and creative, […] soon it was a good thing that having economic and social capital didn’t bar one from cultural capital, because having a trust fund was increasingly a prerequisite. If Mater and Pater bought you a flat near London Fields for your 18th birthday, and if you had a reserve of money to spend while you “found yourself”, and the likelihood of being able to land an internship on a career track in the media once your Southern-fried-hog-jowls-in-katsu-curry food truck failed or you got bored of playing festivals with your respectably rated bass-guitar-and-Microkorg duo, then you had the freedom to explore and develop, and that development could take a number of forms; travelling the world’s thrift shops, picking up cool records and playing them at your DJ night, spending the time you don’t need to work for money getting good at playing an instrument (and recent UK research shows that people in wealthier areas tend to have better musical aptitude), or just growing a really lush beard. With the rolling back of the welfare state and the “race to the bottom” in wages, these quests for self-actualisation are once again the preserve of the gentry; it’s rather hard to develop your creative voice when you’re on zero-hour contracts, and spend all your time either working in shitty jobs, looking for work, or commuting from where you can afford to live. And so economic capital has colonised cultural capital, and what passes for “cool” now belongs to those with money.