critical radio

The founders of coletivo digital, São Paulo are gathered around a life-size cut-out of Luiz Inácio “Lula” da Silva, in the run up to the Brazilian presidential elections 2022.

foto: Coletivo Digital, São Paulo October 2022.

First published in German in Springerin “ArtGPT,” issue 1/2024.
Published as a zine for MISS READ Berlin Art Book Fair & Festival 2024 and as a supplement to my contribution to WAVES: Radio as Collective Imagination (2024).

When I initiated fugitive radio in 2020, during the first year of the global COVID19 pandemic, it seemed like everyone was making a podcast, but I wondered who was listening. As “if a radio broadcasts in a forest…,” quipped Sophea Lerner, co-founder of the independent radio platform {openradio}. Curious about the sociabilities arising around (experimental) radio technologies, fugitive radio made a series of live “performance–radio” broadcasts for Pixelache Helsinki Festival #BURN____2021. Since 2021, it has a produced a monthly podcast, “fugitive frequency,” for the radio communities Colaboradio on Freie Radios Berlin-Brandenburg and Helsinki Open Waves. It is also active with lumbung radio/Station of Commons, a platform founded for documenta fifteen (2022), and πNode, a community formed around an ad hoc network of radio infrastructures in France. I have further developed fugitive radio’s collaborative live broadcast events across residencies at Helsinki International Artist Programme (2022), Lanchonete.org (São Paulo, 2022) and Jan van Eyck Academie (JvE) (2022–23).

At an assembly held during documenta fifteen, it was suggested that net radio is a kind of low bandwidth activism taking up digital space in a largely privatized and commercialized World Wide Web. While this may be so, fugitive radio claims that the critical front is not at public facing websites, rather “critical radio” [1] emerges in the kinds of organizing, skill sharing and community building that occurs alongside the production of content. Hack-labs and live broadcast happenings facilitate sharing, co-learning and generate enthusiasm for alternative networked-sociabilities. While such gatherings are often premised on pursuing free and open (source) culture and promoting digital commons, it is arguably conviviality that shapes the micro-politics of experimental radio activity.

counterculture
During my time at JvE, Charles Esche, director of the Van Abbemuseum, suggested that a turn towards audio in exhibitions was in response to “the focus on visuality in visual art.” He proposed that sound in what is traditionally the domain of visual arts, transgresses the separation of senses that occurred during modernity and the distinct disciplines defined by art academies and conservatoires. If exhibitions are making radios appear, how might they critique conventional aesthetic, intellectual and institutional practices?

“Instagram is my portfolio,” a visual artist once told me. In the 1990s the World Wide Web became the graphical interface for the internet. With the advent of social media in the early 2000s, notably Facebook, Instagram and now Tik-Tok, it seems that much of net culture has become by default visual culture. In 2022, I met with Coletivo Digital, a rare group still active in Brazil who recall the optimism of the early World Wide Web. They suggested that the emancipatory and experimental drives of open culture movements had coalesced in net radio. Indeed, I propose that current (net-)radio practices are a counterculture to prevailing pics-or-it-didn’t-happen social media engineered relations.

“Make friends not art” was a phrase that memed during the Jakarta-based collective ruangrupa’s takeover of documenta fifteen (2022), also known as “lumbung one,” valorizing of the social aspects of art-making over its commodified objects. Friendship was thus politicized as it determined the communities, practices and issues leveraged through infrastructural art power. This was notable as evidence of antisemitism alongside racist and transphobic attacks rocked the event, leading to censorship, withdrawals and the resignation of Documenta’s Director General Sabine Schormann. Nevertheless, solidarities resolved among those remaining and initiatives, such as lumbung radio, are ongoing. Organizations have since proposed to “learn from lumbung,” a reference to an Indonesian community rice barn, emphasizing the pooling and redistribution resources among inter-local networks and collective planning. [2] I think it would also be wise to learn from the Humboldt Forum.

normalization
I first encountered plans to re-house collections from Berlin’s Ethnological Museum and Museum of Asian Art in an architectural monument recalling Prussian imperialism at the conference “Postcolonial Justice”, University of Potsdam, 2014. [3] At panels about the restitution of sensitive objects, I learned of Tanzania-born Mnyaka Sururu Mboro’s campaign to return human remains held in these collections. In July 2017, Bénédicte Savoy, an art historian specializing in restitution and provenance, resigned from the Humboldt Forum’s advisory board stating:
The architecture signals that history can be undone. But people who ask for the return of stolen objects are told that history cannot be undone. [4]

Her sensationalized departure sparked debate about Germany’s colonial legacy. Groups protesting the Forum included: No Humboldt 21, Decolonize Berlin Alliance, Africa Avenir and Barazani. The Coalition of Cultural Workers Against the Humboldt Forum (CCWAH) formed in 2020, objecting to the crowning of this public-funded building erected on the site of East Germany’s former parliament, with a privately funded golden orb and cross. Bearing an inscription that demands “the living and the dead kneel unconditionally before Jesus”, they opposed the Forum’s assertion of Christian domination. [5]

After a series of staggered openings, the Humboldt Forum was inaugurated on 20 July 2021 as a space for criticism and debate, discursively reframing its problematic collections. While the CCWAH announced that they would “refuse to participate” others resigned to work with it—I suspect because precarious artists cannot afford to refuse a paying gig, especially migrants whose visas are dependent on such contracts. Indeed, the Forum welcomes critical readings of its collection by so-called “People-Of-Colour” whose participation validates its means of knowledge production, neutralizing the potency of their critique. Activists I’ve met complain that the Forum has appropriated their language, community-building methods and commissioned work from thinkers whom they reference. After much pressure, the Forum announced a restitution deal with Nigeria in 2022 to return over 1000 objects, including two prized “Benin Bronzes.” Recently a friend disclosed attending a free hip-hop dance class at the Forum, confirming that despite lingering disquiet some dissenting artists had normalized their relations with it.

solidarity
Even in the progressive capital of Berlin, solidarities among its creative scenes are uneasy. At the time of writing, the war in Israel–Palestine has divided the city which is home to significant communities linked to this conflict. The artist and broadcaster Nathan Gray calls it “the new Berlin Wall.”

In January 2024, the Berlin Senate adopted an anti-discrimination clause as a condition of cultural funding. With an emphasis on antisemitism over other forms of racism, such as islamophobia and anti-blackness, the Senate controversially chose a working definition promoted by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) adding an extension that conflates persecution of Jewish people with criticisms of Israel. Many are anxious about this curbing of free speech and artistic expression as wars escalate worldwide, and noticeably it is Palestinians who have been silenced. As Jewish critics of Zionism question if they are being subject to antisemitism by German police when arrested for protesting the war, those from countries where support for Palestine is the norm, call out the hypocrisy of German institutions’ decolonial interests. In response, a campaign to “Strike Germany” has gained traction. Recalling the Boycott, Divestment and Sanction campaigns against Israel declared antisemitic by the Bundestag in 2019, it demands that the state “protect artistic freedom,” “focus the fight against antisemitism” and “combat structural racism.”

When I moved to Berlin in 2017, curators I met sought to politicize their practices. Now some admit to being strategically silent, contributing to a climate of self-censorship and antagonism that recalls East Germany’s Stasi era or McCarthyism in the United States. As spaces holding multiple perspectives are dramatically reduced, what are the alternative platforms for critical debate?

While German mainstream media echoes the state’s unequivocal support for Israel, a group of artists and intellectuals are providing counter-narrative resources. Learning Palestine have so far compiled two twelve-hour radio programs, “Until Liberation I & II”, collaborating with Bethlehem-based Radio Alhara. Birthed in 2020 among friends isolating during the pandemic, Radio Alhara takes its name from the Arabic word for neighborhood. Interpersonal organizing and low operating costs afforded it to function beyond the “constrains of social media and corporate controlled networks” and it was welcomed among a globalized cultural community as a forum where otherwise silenced Palestinian voices—and music—are made audible. Since first airing in October 2023, “Until Liberation” has been rebroadcast on several sympathetic platforms including lumbung radio, suggestive of participating radios’ (infra)structural solidarity.

(an)optics
At JvE I learned that optics is a primary concern of exhibition-making—exhibitions must look “professional” regardless of intent. I suspect fugitive radio’s critique is indulged in such contexts precisely because of its low visibility—indeed there is nothing to see! But who listens? My friends and peers assure me that they follow online, however, I predict fugitive radio’s legacy will be publishing; it produces podcasts and publishes zines that leave a trace of critical radio practice in contemporary art.

I’ve found some affinity between experimental radio makers and independent art book publishers and fugitive radio has participated in several related fairs including: Under The Leaf, Helsinki (2022), The Fabulous Books Are Bridges, Rotterdam (2023) and MISS READ, Berlin (2023). Not long ago I ran into a curator of book events clutching a copy of Rebecca Ruth Gould’s Erasing Palestine (2023) concerning the IHRA. When I asked if he should be seen with this book in Berlin, he laughed and replied that it was not a problem on a book display, “but if it were an exhibition…”. His remark indicates tiers of visibility that are subject to differing scrutiny and censorship. After all, who reads books these days?

As an “anoptic” practice, might radio modulate the functions of art institutions as instruments for the commodification of creativity and the enforcing of state interests? Collaborating with community-developed platforms fugitive radio promotes alternative sociable medias. It approaches radio not as a mass media, but rather as a catalyst for coming together to discuss, experiment and play. Co-opting the discursive impulses of institutional art to co-produce responsive micro-media—promoted by word-of-mouth and distributed hand-to-hand—could critical radio circumvent authoritarian oversight and the performative pressures of corporate social medias under which professionalized art is subsumed?

January 2024

[1] A term proposed to me by Amanda Sarroff, writing advisor to Jan van Eyck
Academie.

[2] For example: “Learning from lumbung Public Forum on documenta fifteen” 23–24
January 2023, Jubilee, Brussels; “Lumbung Practice” temporary masters programme,
Sandberg Instituut, De Appel and Gudskul.

[3] Gesellschaft für Anglophone Postkoloniale Studien, “Postcolonial Justice”, 29 May–1
June 2014, Potsdam and Berlin.

[4] Cited in dpa, “Expertin: Humboldt-Forum verschweigt Ursprung seiner Sammlungen”, Monopol, 21 July 2017.

[5] Noëlle BuAbbud, “Nightmare at the Museum: An Interview with Coalition of Cultural Workers Against the Humboldt Forum,” Berlin Art Link, 5 February 2021.

“fugitive radio-Out Of Office Radio”, one century abc, Titanik Gallery, 22 November 2023.

OOO Radio’s inaugural outside broadcast in front of a sculpture of sculpture of Elias Lönnrot in Helsinki.

fugitive radio made a presentation and live broadcast at “one century abc”, a week-long program of experimental music, installation and performance organised by Äänipäivät at Titanik Gallery, Turku, 21–26 November. After meeting OOO Radio for their inaugural outside broadcast in Helsinki on the weekend, I wanted to present something that echoed their gesture and also connected some of the radio networks/projects that we potentially overlap. Unfortunately, I was hampered by an uncontrollable running nose and a technical glitch rendered the recording near unlistenable. So below is the script.

fugitive radio-Out Of Office Radio: artradio2radioart
Out of Office Radio (OOO Radio) is a bicycle-mounted mobile radio station based in Helsinki, initiated by artists James Prevett and Samantha Lippett with bespoke speakers and a fabric designed by Timo Vaittinen and additional support from Iiri Poteri. It was launched this month as part of James’ exhibition, “Together With” at Forum Box art space in Helsinki with a focus on “the creation of curious and experimental sound in public space”. It is available online— indeed we are streaming live on it now—and they plan to make the mobile studio a loanable resource, prioritising “participatory approaches to broadcasting and distributing material that would otherwise not have a place on traditional radio stations.”

Some listeners may know that my ongoing project, fugitive radio, was initially proposed to be a “bicycle-mounted radio shack and mobile recording studio” to the Helsinki based media arts association, Pixelache, for their 2021 festival. So my interest was immediately piqued when I stumbled onto OOO Radio a little over a week ago. I reached out to Sam and James via email to offer a contribution and then last Saturday joined them alongside Iiri for their inaugural outside broadcast: an excursion to this sculpture of Elias Lönnrot.

James maintains a series, “Patsastellaan: Parties for Public Sculpture”, for which the artist invites other artists to collaborate on making a new work together, beginning from an existing public sculpture. Arguably these “parties” celebrate historically commissioned monuments, drawing attention to aspects of the built/designed/landscaped environment that are often overlooked; thus together we recall the histories and the contexts in which these sculptures were erected, to examine their details and encourage speculation or fabulation about their (continued or shifting) significance, symbolism and meaning.

[Audio description of the image]

These two people are passerby, I believe strangers to the artists who were intrigued enough to stop by on a wintery Saturday afternoon – can you see snow in the image?

I like how this person in the left is taking a photograph. I wonder if they put it on Instagram? Because that’s what I did, with the caption:

#outsideofficeradio streaming live with Elias Lönnrot. Public sculpture meets social sculpture as outside broadcast @forumbox

So for this performance/presentation, I would like to unpack this caption and this photographic/Instagramatic impulse, responding in turn to OOO Radio—art-radio-to-radioart—as a live (but not outside) broadcast.

Public sculpture
I grew up in Sydney, Australia and I think it was an artist and friend Deborah Kelly who once quipped to me, that if you really want to forget about a popular or political figure, then one sure way to do it is to turn them into a public sculpture that birds will shit on and that everyone would ignore. So, I’m interested in this prospect of public sculpture being a means of externalising or purging someone from the collective conscience. In some ways memorialising them, but also making their sanctioned legacy—literally the ideas and values that such a monument stands for—available for public scrutiny, critique, perhaps vandalism or even iconoclasm. Think of the toppling of statues of slave owners as part of the Black Lives Matter uprisings.

Social sculpture
“Social sculpture”, a term coined by the conceptual artist Jospeh Beuys to develop an understanding of art that encompasses all of society. According to Beuys: “EVERY HUMAN BEING IS AN ARTIST” with the potential to consciously contribute to a “TOTAL ART WORK OF THE FUTURE SOCIAL ORDER.” An entry on Wikipedia suggests that even a mundane task, such as peeling a potato, would contribute to such a TOTAL ART WORK, if undertaken as a conscious act. It reminds me of other traditions that endorse approaching the rituals of daily life into deliberate, intentional and potentially aesthetic actions—such as certain forms of Buddhism or (secular) mindfulness techniques that compel one to be present, attentive and calm.

Outside broadcast
fugitive radio was initiated in 2020 with the aforementioned Pixelache during the first waves of the COVID pandemic. During this time it seemed that everyone was making a podcast, but who was listening? So I began to wonder what it was we were doing. I came to think of these radio experiments as a kind of social phenomena with technology, emphasising the social production that accompanied the production of (experimental/amateur/art) radio.

The Japanese philosopher and performer, Tetsuo Kogawa, coined the term “radioart” (one word), to distinguish the “free play of frequencies” from art on the radio. It’s a notion that fugitive radio is aligned with, alongside open culture movements that emphasise the use and development of free/libre and open source tools and practices of sharing (digital commoning). As such, fugitive radio collaborates with like-minded groups and organisations including: {openradio}, lumbung radio/Station of Commons and πNode on which we are currently broadcasting.

I often describe fugitive radio as “responding to the uptake of radio in contemporary art by producing live, collectively-realised broadcast events.” Sometimes I say it as a vehicle for developing experimental modes of “performance/participatory radio.” During Pixelache Helsinki’s 2021 festival at Oodi Library, fugitive radio produced a regular hour-long outside broadcast over eight consecutive days, exploring formats that included: interviews, conversations and vox pops; Hum Klub; Karaoke Theory; environmental percussion (with artist Suva Das) alongside (augmented) soundscapes and of course glitches and occasional dead air.

Since then fugitive radio has gone on to produce events such as KARA-O-KLINIK, a karaoke therapy clinic (HIAP Suomenlinna, 2022), conceived as a kind of awkward durational sit-com; and NightShift, a live and improvised overnight broadcast and publishing performance/happening at the independent art book shop, Limestone Books, Maastricht and organised in collaboration with London-based artist/publisher Rose Nordin.

Over the last year I found myself emphasising that while fugitive radio has found a niche in contemporary art, it is not a visual arts project.

Radio communities
I think of this presentation of echoing OOO Radio’s inaugural outside broadcast; speaking to their social sculpture in the same way they are speaking to this monument of ….?

I’ve become intrigued by how the notion of “radio” or “broadcasting” frames a discussion. It seems that as soon as you put a microphone in front of a person they begin to perform. Or perhaps people simply perform to the situation. How much of this technology is necessary, especially if no-one is listening? Can we simply “frame” a conversation discursively and call it “radio”? Does anybody need to be listening? “If a radio broadcasts in a forest…” is something Sophea Lerner, one of the co-founders of the independent radio platform { openradio }, once said to me.

Nevertheless, technology is indeed one of fugitive radio’s concerns, emphasising the use of free/libre and open source tools and artist-developed platforms and software. I often describe my interest is in performing these infrastructures. And I would suggest that there is something similar going on in this pictures as James, Sam and Iirie perform—or perform to—the built environment. In doing so they bring others into the artwork understood as expanded sculpture, social practice or indeed social sculpture—as participants, interlocutors or onlookers, drawing attention to the situation by simply contributing their gaze.

Arguably, fugitive radio’s real interest is not so much about community radio, but rather “radio communities”. That is, those who use, develop and maintain alternative networked communication media technologies. I often claim that such radio communities suggest a counter-culture to the “pics-or-it-didn’t-happen” behaviour induced by popular social media platforms, such as Instagram. This might not be a revolutionary “FUTURE SOCIAL ORDER”, but it may nevertheless be emancipatory as people grasp the tools of production, communication and distribution and most importantly co-learn, share and socialise as “radio friends” or comrades.

fugitive frequency, season 3, episode 8: “Risky Business” with Mariam Elnozahy

Sumugan Sivanesan and Mariam Elnozahy in the foreground, with their backs to the camera, are seated at a table in front of a laptop. In front of them is the vegetable garden of the Jan van Eyck Academie. People are gathered here in the sunshine during open studio, 2023.

This month’s episode “Risky Business” is a conversation with curator, writer and researcher Mariam Elnozahy, recorded during a live broadcast at the Jan van Eyck Academie’s Open Studios, 24 June 2023. Our discussion takes its cues from a statement issued from Jan van Eyck participants concerned with the unclear expectations and “unacceptable conditions of labour” that shaped this much anticipated three day public event. It circulates around issues of artistic production, professional practice and the commodification of identities with reference to exhibition making. Furthermore, this podcast demonstrates how a practice of fugitive radio can offer a counter-platform to circumvent the well established trope of institutional critique in contemporary art.

The podcast begins with the voice of Rose Nordin from an earlier podcast, “NightShift: ‘Creative Labour’” that connects issues of work, artistic practice, sociability and the other intangible processes that contribute to professionalised arts. Interspersed in the podcasts are segments of electromagnetic noise made with Kim David Bots and computer riddims available on fugitive productions [bandcamp].

image: “fugitive radio: outside inside open studios, with Mariam Elnozahy. Live broadcast from the Jan van Eyck Academie vegetable garden, 24 June 2023.” foto: Tessa Zettel.

Onassis AiR Open Day #6, 12 May: “fugitive feminist empathics”

A view of Vio.Me workers’ co-op, Thessaloniki. A skeleton structure, with the frame of a roof and a concrete base raised above a concrete carpark. Barrels can be seen behind a fence under the roof and wooden pallets are stacked in front. A short staircase is to the right.

Listen back to the broadcast on Movement Radio.

​​Anastasia Diavasti of NTIZEZA [Instagram] and Sumugan Sivanesan of fugitive radio planned to research around a common interest in Cassie Thornton’s book The Hologram (2020) and their different approaches to (performative) radio. Spurred on by a timely meeting with Cassie when she was laid over in Athens in March, the duo set about working intuitively. They made recordings at the recent student occupations at Olympia Theatre [Instagram] and Rex Theatre [Instagram], visited the Vio.Me workers co-op in Thessaloniki and primed themselves for telepathy.

For Onassis AiR Open Day #6 they will host a live broadcast to play out their recordings and interviews, and reflect on the themes that emerge with invited guests. These include: dance, solidarity, SF, teargas and cats. It will combine spaces at Onassis AiR, Athens, with spaces at the Jan van Eyck Academie, Maastricht.

Guests include: Julie Bintje, Jitsa Kon and Mariam Elnozahy, Zahra Malkani & Derica Shields.

Listen in between 18.00–21.00 CEST / 19.00–22.00 EEST on {openradio} and Movement Radio Live 2.

KARA-O-KLINIK

KARA-O-KLINIK written with tape across two windows

Live broadcast personal consultations with Sumugan Sivanesan introducing the benefits of Karaoke Therapy. Register here to secure your slot in the KARA-O-KLINIK or just walk-in!

Duration of each session: 30min
Language: Consultations are in English, although you can karaoke in the language of your choice.
Location: HIAP Studios

Following the ‘silent disco’ season finale of fugitive radio’s online club, RUB, in April, I’ve been thinking about ‘awkward’ as an aesthetic category; a subclass of ‘zany’ that cultural theorist Sianne Ngai describes as: “evok[ing] the performance of affective labor—the production of affects and social relationships—as it comes to increasingly trouble the distinction between work and play.” (Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting, 2012, p.7)

Ngai notes that the zany mode is “lighthearted but strikingly vehement”, in which injury is always imminent. Literature and media scholar Pansy Duncan associates awkward with ungainly actions that impede progress combined with feelings of embarrassment. In her article on ‘cringe comedy’, “Joke work: comic labor and the aesthetics of the awkward” (2017) she traces the emergence of cringe comedy with the reorganisation of labour during late capitalism—from mechanical conditions to flexible, ‘creative’ and affective practices. Noting its arhythmic timing and the labour and endurance required of audiences, she emphasises awkward’s “negative phenomenological effects” (p.2).

Arguably play, sociability and managing relationships are simply how we work in ‘creative industries’. So what aesthetic and affective modes do we habitually use as we negotiate expectations to perform our ‘authentic selves’—indeed the best version of ourselves—in these sectors overly concerned with representation? When we sing and dance for our supper what do our voices and bodies betray? What tricks do we turn to when we feel we are failing?

KARA–O–KLINIK sets up a broadcast situation, combining endurance performance-research with reality ‘comedy vérité’. It will broadcast live from HIAP Open Studios, Friday 6 May, 16.00–20.00 and Saturday 7 May, 14.00–18.00.

‘Under A Fooled Moon’ a Radiophonic Closing Ceremony for Suva ‘Untitled’.

Suva Closing Ceremony

9 May 2021 from 17.00
Myymälä2, Helsinki
SonoBus Private Group: underafooledmoon
openradio.in

fugitive radio is convening a collective radiophonic ritual, gathering ‘Under A Fooled Moon’ for a live improv session led by Suva. Guests are asked to bring FM radio receivers, earbuds, smartphones and bluetooth speakers to open a portal between parallel (sonic) universes; you can join onsite at Myymälä2 gallery and online at the SonoBus Private Group: underafooledmoon. The situation is being devised in collaboration with Sophea Lerner and Timo Tuhkanen.

If you are curious to join online or in the gallery with your smartphone, SonoBus is a multi-user platform for streaming audio. It’s great for jammin’. The app is free to download and is available for a range of operating systems, devices and as an audio plug-in: https://sonobus.net/

The event will be streamed live to https://openradio.in/live

From 30 April until 9 May 2021, the Helsinki-based artist Suva exhibits a large series of watercolour portraits of ‘protagonists’ and instrument-sculptures that will be brought to life during impro-performances at Myymälä2. ‘Untitled’ is supported by Artists at Risk. See the Facebook event for dates and times.

fugitive radio is an artistic-research project initiated by Sumugan Sivanesan to research migrant/anticolonial perspectives and music in the North and pursue radio-as-method. fugitive radio is funded by the Kone Foundation and is being made in collaboration with Pixelache. Live broadcasts are supported by {openradio}.

Swarm Vs Stack

Sound(ing)Systems Poster

A close friend once described fugitive radio (and when it was initially formulating as Baracca do Sound System) as my ‘teenage-boy-fantasy-sound-system project’, which I went along with until I recently encountered Nik Nowak’s Schizo Sonics at KINDL Berlin.

Indeed, I had initially proposed to build some kind of mobile sound system — ‘a bicycle-mounted radio shack’ — and it may still come to fruition for Pixelache Festival, however fugitive radio seems to drift towards dispersal and the ephemeral, rather than the monumental and antagonistic. I am no stranger to the discourse of sonic weaponry and Nowak’s oeuvre has piqued my interest in the past at CTM. So as someone with an interest in sound system culture, it’s curious that Nowak’s sound sculptures have emerged as a counterpoint to what I now find myself pursuing. Below is a quick comparison of concerns:

Swarm Vs Stack
quotidian technologies at hand / customised industrial technologies
relatively accessible, low barrier to entry / requires access to equipment, skills & some expertise
ephemeral / monumental
guerilla dispersal / centralised soundclash
technology of the (performing) body / the body as driver of the machine

This suggests to me we are dealing with a different politics of space and dialectics when it comes to soundclash. At KINDL Schizo Sonics concerns histories and strategies of Cold War loudspeaker propaganda across a divided Berlin, with contemporaneous post-war sound system cultures in Jamaica acting as ‘the angle between two walls’, to cite A War of Decibels (2021) above. (Interestingly Nowak and his crew point to Hedley Jones, a Jamaican born musician, audio engineer, inventor, writer and trade-unionist who trained as a radar engineer with the British Royal Airforce and served during World War II. When Jones returned to Jamaica he began building amplifiers that were responsive to a much wider frequency range than those readily available, which he later incorporated into sound systems. He is considered one of the most important pioneers of sounds system electronics.) While a soundclash may present a dialectical war of ideologies, I think fugitive radio is concerned with a different politics of space and subjectivation.

Considering dispersed and covert forms of audio performance that I hope to produce in the near future, I was reminded today of discussions during the Onassis AiR School of Infinite Rehearsals: Movement I about how our group might enact different or new relations in the matrices of power we were entangled in as arts workers. Here Federica Bueti alerted us to Tina Campt’s discussion of refusal from her book Listening to Images (2017): ‘creative practices of refusal—nimble and strategic practices that undermine the categories of the dominant.’

I am also reminded again of the Sound Swarm protest performances devised by Grey Filastine that have occurred at numerous UN COP climate conferences, and also of cacerolazo noise protests in which agitators bang on pots and pans.

I am thinking about the ubiquity of blue tooth speakers and how a kind of ‘sonic entity’ might emerge, as political performance and even resistance, from what is at hand and everyday. Another example is the way people use bowls as resonating chambers to amplify the speakers on their mobile phones. For Pixelache Festival I would like to explore these improvised technologies and corporeal gestures further, to develop what I’ve discussed elsewhere as a ‘Choreography of Disobedience’.

Northern Anticolonial Remix

I met with artist, journalist and activist Jari Tamminen at his exhibition and workshop series, Spektaakkeliakatemia, currently on at Stoa, Helsinki (30.10.2020—13.12.2020). He explained to me his ideas about how the language advertising is the lingua-franca of the globalised world. In his art-activist practice and workshops Tamminen considers ‘classic advertising’, such as the manipulation of text and image as seen on billboards and bus shelters, as a form of communication that is recognisable and understood internationally and across cultures. This is evident in the exhibition at Stoa, where a series of ‘subvertisements’ are rendered in languages that reflect those commonly spoken by teenagers who attended his workshops in East Helsinki, an area notable for its migrant communities and ‘cultural diversity’. Aside from Finnish, Swedish and English the posters featured texts in Russian, Turkish and French (a language commonly spoken amongst West African communities).

Tamminen, who studied marketing, further claims that as a modern and subliminal means of communication (and manipulation), advertising takes advantage of an innate awareness that we humans have about our surroundings. He has observed that when his students analyse advertising in his workshops they are often surprised at how many brands and trademarks they can recognise, even if they have never directly engaged with the commodities or services they represent.

I first met Tamminen at an exhibition he curated, Rájágeassin Demarkation, about Sámi art-activism at Sinne gallery Helsinki, August 2020. Here I was introduced to the work of Suohpanterror!, a Sámi collective using the tools of subvertising and meme propaganda to challenge the state and corporate marginalisation of Sámi people and their interests.

To think a little about the power dynamics of (visual) appropriation and remix: The ‘classic’ argument is that advertising is an invasive takeover of public space by private commercial interests. Culture jamming, ad-busting, subvertising and other similar strategies intervene and disrupt these processes, often with satire, and arguably speak truth back to power. To use Tamminen’s words these practices ‘punch up’, especially when people and communities are invisibilised, marginalised or misrepresented in the media and by the dominant narratives they uphold.

Tamminen discusses his work with Suohpanterror! on a campaign to confront Disney’s Frozen franchise. Disney’s production crew had visited Sámi lands late in 2016 as part of their research for the second animated feature, but had not properly consulted or sought permission from Sámi people. As Tamminen writes in Voima, a magazine freely distributed in Helsinki, Sámi clothing, jewellery and other artifacts were viewed and used, irritating historical and ongoing tensions about the appropriation and misrepresentation of Sámi culture.

Suohpanterror! and Tamminen’s poster campaign sustained a public debate about Disney taking more than just inspiration from the peoples of the North. Tamminen draws attention to the ‘Hat of Four Winds’, an example of traditional attire that has been appropriated and commodified in Finland, (notable by the tourism industry). One of the characters wears such a hat their Stolen campaign poster as a satirical speculation as to how Disney might also appropriate Sámi culture. Tamminen explains that when Disney were made aware these and other complaints they quickly responded. The producers sought to consult with a Sámi expert committee during the development of the animation, signing a contract as a commitment to portray their culture respectfully. Disney also dubbed the film into a Northern Sámi language. Jikŋon 2, was released in cinemas conjunction with the original language version of the film in Norway, December 2019.

Tamminen alerted me to a popular TV show Hymyhuulet (Smiling Lips) from the 1980s that featured ‘Nunnuka Nunnuka’ racist and derogatory caricatures of Sámi people. (Question: Why are they in Black-face?):

Sámi rapper, Ailu Valle responds to this racist media-cultural slur:

It’s worth noting that strategies of remix need not only be weaponised. For example fan-fiction and Karaoke employ methods of cut, copy, modify and paste to pay tributes, elaborate on fantasies and find affinities with characters, celebrities and other ‘public figures’. (As this project veers towards remix in music, I’m curious as to what is the tension between appropriation, admiration and meme-like acceleration of cultural productions).