Anarchy is Female workshop, skill-share, printed extravaganza for radical female empowerment and care on Jan. 15 at the shop.
Details coming soon.
Anarchy is Female workshop, skill-share, printed extravaganza for radical female empowerment and care on Jan. 15 at the shop.
Details coming soon.
Join us on Jan. 13th at the brewery. Tell your friends. Drink some delicious beer. Propose a project. Win some money. Do some good with it. Come back next time and tell us what’s what.
Get Brewing! : A Micro Funding/Brewing Platform Supporting Neighborhood Creative Engagement for Defense and Wellness in South Minneapolis
Beyond Repair and Eastlake Craft Brewing have devised a micro-grant presentation platform – Get Brewing! – established to promote and support creative social engagement around defense and wellness in the 9th Ward neighborhoods of Powderhorn, Central, and Phillips. Modeled after FEAST (“a recurring public dinner designed to use community-driven financial support to democratically” fund project proposals) Get Brewing! invites 9th Ward neighbors to individually or collaboratively propose projects that imaginatively address how we, as neighbors, can care for, assist, and protect one another within this moment of unease.
Every other Friday at 7pm, starting January 13th, drop by Eastlake for a beer. Propose a project, or simply listen in on the great ideas of your fellow neighbors. Proposals will be voted on by all in attendance. With $2 from every full-size beer sold to participants that evening going into the Get Brewing! fund, the winner walks away with that night’s profits to help support the realization of their idea. Winners return at the next gathering of Get Brewing! to share what they’ve done.
Within a moment where distrust and fear, hate crimes, and general unease are at a fever pitch, models and actions that address how we care for one another, as well as ourselves, are not simply a good idea, but vital social tools for mental health and personal freedom in advance of crisis. Get Brewing! creates a social space to critically address these concerns and highlight methods of support for one another from the ground up. With communal intent we, as neighbors, can energize ideas that benefit us all, starting with our neighbors most at risk within a climate of heightened aggression and intolerance.
Have a beer!
Come up with an idea!
Commit to one another!
Repeat as necessary!!
“I’m incredibly excited to make this news public. Last week I was awarded a Mid-Career Project Grant funded by the McKnight Foundation and administered through Forecast Public Art. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed by this support and its implications for the work and energy that is being generated out of the relationships forming in Beyond Repair. With this support (along with last weeks wonderful news of a Visual Arts Fund grant through the Warhol Foundation and Midway Contemporary Art Library) we’ll be able to do so much; bring in new voices with vital stories to tell, create platforms to amplify voices already present in the 9th Ward, and support the production of creative engagement throughout the neighborhood for some time to come.
The grant will support Publics & Publication. A multi-faceted project that will gather histories known and not-known-well-enough from noted artists, activists, and thinkers who have activated ideas around publication (the act of public making) to energetic means. These histories will energize a series of public projects and platforms (such as printed publications, radio broadcasts, and interactive billboards) addressing policing and “security” within Minneapolis’ 9th Ward, as well as models for collective self-defense and wellness.
What this will all look like will come out of the interactions that we share together within the shop. But, for starters, two platforms for continued questioning, and amplification of those questions, will be developed: a radio station (W R/L F/R, which stands for With Radical Love and Fierce Resistance, the thematic for all programming) and an on-going series of free pamphlets engaging urgent topics, advice, and tools around our present moment of abject fuckery that is Trump-World.
It’s incredibly important for me to thank all the people who have offered their time and love to the shop this first year. Random droppers-by who have become fast friends and compatriots like Duaba (Dane) Verrtah; the ever-expanding, soon to reform in some fashion, folks of the Undercommons Reading Group; Fiona Avocado, Derek Winston Maxwell,Lacey Prpić Hedtke, Rachel Hiltsley and all those who decided that they wanted to spend time around the shop and bring others into the fold (along with, simply, giving me a moment to breath and / or hang out with my family). Oh man… there are so many people!! You know who you are. And I will thank you personally.
There’s more to add, and so much more to come. I’ll be sure to clue you in when things are afoot. But for now, thank you thank you thank you. I am so grateful and excited for what will and may come out of this level of support for a project that, I am well aware, is complex and not in the least spectacular. And I mean that in a good way.
In closing, I wanted to point out one thing. I’m really not a fan of competition. And in this circumstance that is exactly what I got myself into. There were five finalists for this award. One of them being Roger Cummings, an artist and friend who I have a lot of respect for. I was certain Roger would get this. But that’s not how it turned out. Along with a whiskey, I want to extend my thanks and gratitude to Roger (and DeAnna!) for all the amazing work they do in Minneapolis, and the thousands of young minds and souls they have energized over the years. Here’s a future devoid of competition, bursting with shared support and friendship.” – Sam
“Yes, and…”, a continuation of the work begun at St. Catherine’s with Crisis Logic & the Reader, opened today at Mia.
Through tools for questioning engagement, broadside and book releases (hence the banners over head, as they reference a line in a chapbook by Andrea Jenkins we’ll be releasing during the run of the project), and continued clandestine readings of texts which propose non-binary logics, “Yes, and…” energizes the social life of reading as a point of consideration, as well as an active social tool, within the space of the museum to imagine other forms of living, relating, and resisting the new normal of life during Trump time.
Open today through the end of January. If you’d like to volunteer to read a text let us know!
Crisis brings out the best in us. Unlike personal hardship, crisis, as we’ll be speaking about through Crisis Logic & the Reader, is collective. We may not all agree on goals, or tactics, but we are all in it, living a complex association of subjective realities experienced, within crisis, more on the surface than we normally allow for. The social disruption experienced within crisis is raw, vulnerable, and most importantly, it is highly malleable. It is shaped by our engagement and our proximity to one another.
A hurricane, a terrorist attack, a public response to great injustice; in crisis we engage our most elemental – arguably most human – social reflexes. We gather together. We look out for one another. Crisis disrupts agreed upon notions of the normal or acceptable rhythms of our day in favor, at its base, of survival. At its best – as when we find one another living within “revolutionary time” – crisis is a mechanism which, through shared effort, helps foster the desire for social evolution towards the creation of a new world.
In crisis we find agency. We take it upon ourselves to do without being asked. We understand that there may be unknown consequences for “acting out,” and yet we nonetheless take that risk for the possibility of greater good. We look, we listen, we assist. Crisis allows us, through careful reading of the social landscape, to recognize our shared resources. An abundance that is so often clouded at times outside of the disruptive energies of crisis logic when we reside within the social norms pre-crisis which produce, and are emboldened by, the isolation of stark individualism. Within crisis we look towards what needs to be done. And so, in the midst of social disruption we are cooperative and collective. We are greater than the sum of our parts.
Crisis follows us. Not as a specter, but as a lens. A method of engaging and seeing the world around us. In each and every interaction – especially those that are trenchantly attempting to “remain whole” – we find ourselves negotiating our proximity to old ways, attempting to unsettle them. We consider ways to disturb, to upset the rhythm of the moment, as a means towards expanding the landscape of the social evolution which we find ourselves so urgently a part of. In crisis our social landscape expands. Often new vistas come into view. We arrive at these new locals and sightlines through the forging of new relationships.
Here in the Twin Cities, for instance, many of us cannot hold our tongues any longer after the murders of Jamar Clark and Philando Castile, two tragic chapters within a prolonged, though energetically erratic, moment of crisis. For many, these tragedies opened further avenues of consideration; staggering economic disparities between white and black Minneapolis residents, or the propensity for the dominant culture within Minnesota at large to avoid conflict, and in turn, critical self-assessment, to name just two. And yet, crisis has raised these issues and many more to the forefront of a shared dialogue. Individuals, knowing they are part of something larger than themselves, find common cause and safety in speaking out. The logic of crisis allows them to recognize their voice as one integral speaker within a system of amplification while, paradoxically, encouraging vibrant autonomy through the agency that crisis provides.
And yet, with all the good which manifests through crisis’ disruption of the day-to-day, the pressure of the moment leads to anxiety. Adrenaline can sustain us for only so long. Sure enough, we falter. We crash. And the momentum that felt like an inevitability begins to lose steam and the friction of the moment begins to wear us down. Rather than erode social structures to reveal new possibilities in living with one another, this friction breaks bonds, encourages competition, suggests that hierarchy – a social structure which was temporarily thrown out the window – is the best option for stability.
Despite all its benefits, crisis is nonetheless myopic. It exists vibrantly within the moment, rarely allowing us time or guidance towards imagining a sustained future for the egalitarianism and cooperation that energizes us into action and common cause.
And so, crisis is exactly that; a moment in time. Limited in duration in that it is “other” than our day-to-day. Not the life we strive for, but a simulation of living differently that, without the tools to do so, we cannot imaginably sustain.
With these limitations in mind it’s imperative that we look for the good in crisis, while not succumbing to its limitations, or imagining it as “real life.” Crisis is pedagogy. What we do with crisis is living. If we are to work together for a common good, we cannot rely on the culture of response that crisis requires to manifest itself. We will need a social tool more fluid, rich in depth and texture. A tool that allows us to live energetically in the present, while understanding, and encountering, the “long now” of the social landscape and its histories. Quite arguably we have an alternative available within the social life of the book.
The culture, consciousness, and material and ephemeral social infrastructure which bibliophiles inhabit presents a compelling alternative to crisis logic for us when considering more sustainable forms of sociopolitical engagement. For book freaks – and perpetual students everywhere – the social landscape that books and texts inhabit is broad. Most objectively it manifests in the material form as a book, but just as much the social life of reading requires no object to allow it to manifest. The reader is receptor and projector, processor and creator.
Known knowns, known unknowns, unknown unknowns; to readers, texts read and unread surround us, making us constantly aware of the networks we inhabit and the varying nodes which connect us. Other readers, books, bookshops, the space “in-between readers” are simply a few of the nodes of consciousness inhabited by the reader. Readers reside within a space and time very much in the present, but constantly informed by what came before and the possibilities of what may materialize after. Deep reading and continued critical “scanning” allows for us to enter social situations, both calm as well as urgent, with a wealth of possible outcomes and associations at our fingertips. The available social landscape materializes before us through an individual storehouse of past reading endeavors that nevertheless exist exclusively in immaterial proximity with other readers and their networks. Books we’ve encountered, pamphlets and newspapers we’ve scanned, act as a prismatic lens to view the world in front of us. Memory and reading comprehension are batteries powering limitless futures. This lens allows for myriad possible avenues of engagement. When considering the social life of reading as an alternative to crisis logic a number of similarities begin to materialize. And, further still, more tools with greater resiliency begin to take form.
You simply cannot read alone. This first point is vital. So, when considering the social life of reading as an alternative to crisis logic and its benefits, it is our job to understand what we mean when we refer to this “social life.” It is not simply a book, or the text within a book. It is not the bookstore, the library, or the stack of books on your bedside table. It is all these things and none of them. It is the spectral embodiment of all readers and texts past, present, and future. It is Montaigne writing in his tower library surrounded by the books he inherited from La Boétie. It is George Washington reading Thomas Paine’s Crisis Letters to his troops. It is the love letter in your pocket, the traffic ticket on your windshield. It is the conversation with the clerk at the book shop or with your friend on a long walk around town. It is the book you see someone reading on the bus. It is the space in-between persons and our ability to understand and complicate one another. It is the public that begins to recognize itself within the empty spaces between readers and their networks.
None of this would be possible without a reading / writing public and its histories. First of all, you would be the only one reading / writing, and the texts you would draft, without our enate dependence on metaphor and analogy to form meaning, would be impenetrable. That is, if you were able to draft them at all. It is only within our associations and their reconstruction that we are able to create meaning. We are constantly reconfiguring old ideas to understand present circumstances. Within the social life of reading, like crisis, our associations are made manifest through engagement. But in engaging crisis we respond, primarily, outwardly. Within the social life of reading a cyclical relationship occurs wherein we are constantly figuring and reconfiguring ourselves based on our experiences.
In Crisis we come together out of commonness, and through our association we become something else entirely. Our disparate experiences interlock through common histories and analogies, but become something altogether different due to their present entanglements. In crisis these entanglements and associations are always in response to an event outside of ourselves. The response is durational and finite. It is often limited to geography as well. Its only form of mobility the persons it most immediately involves. Reading is different. While their energies and qualities may vary over time, our associations and entanglements within the social landscape of reading last a lifetime and are vast. There is always the “known unknown” that others are out there. The mystery compels to search to keep reading and scanning the landscape for clues to that known unknown. The more we read the more readers and sites of reading we encounter, the more the landscape reveals itself to us, a deeply para-subjective and anthropological form of cartography. But unlike antiquated maps this one is lived, exists in a 1:1 ratio, and expands through time and exposure to the particularities of the landscape.
The event of reading is the event which we call living. It is not a moment, but moments and our relationship to them. While crisis takes us out of our day to begin to inhabit a new world, it is only temporary. Social triage in a moment of conflict to cauterize wounds. It does leave us with tastes of other possible worlds and ways of being, but no vehicles remain to travel away and beyond where we are at. We are left with our memories, but no past or future tools to reconfigure for use outside of crisis. With reading on the other hand, social support, transport, and infrastructure abound. Reading both informs and disrupts the norms of our present associations. We are constantly on the move. A machine for the construction of analogies, set to process and adapt to our proximity to others, reading is a method of constant readjustment and, necessarily, self-assessment. A reader who doesn’t energetically engage in methods of self-critique is hamstrung, their available wealth of knowledge limited to what they will accept as true.
And so where do we find ourselves now? Arguably, to engage our present moment within the space of crisis logic, we will in time circle back to old habits. The same habits which allowed us to arrive right where we currently find ourselves; surrounded by racists, hate mongers, climate change deniers, corporate sociopaths, misogynists, and a growing public that simply wants things to “calm down.” We may rally. We may “come together” and compel the present social infrastructure of neo-liberalism to set things straight, but we will, in time, arrive at similar moments. How might we find ourselves, instead of coming together in crisis, reading our shared moment more broadly? What translations or social tools must take hold for us to extend the benefits of crisis logic into a prolonged relational engagement with our social landscape through the available millennia long culture of the book? (Importantly, I’d argue, this culture exists pre-text, beginning with, and extending along side, oral cultures).
One can read frantically. Share books, links, posters, social media posts at a fever pitch. A reader can form a life outside of the book from what inspires them. We can be compelled to act, and within acting, we find ourselves; a whole entanglement of somebodies.
It is our search for fellowship within the social landscape of reading – the energetic understanding and compulsion to engage the positively destructive power of the space between readers and our abilities – that may very well lead us to these other worlds, and quite possibly, to a common good.
A last minute reminder that Crisis Logic & the Reader opens today. Sam will be giving a lecture on how the “social life of reading” might work as a durational alternative to crisis logic this afternoon at 3pm. Tomorrow Matt Olson and I will be in conversation regarding the radical gesture of love and its complications, and Thursday Monica Haller and I will be discussing issues of race and identity and its relationship to the environment. Closing things out, on Thursday evening, Michael Gallope, Meredith Gill, and the rest of their fantastic group, IE, will be playing us out for the week on Derek Winston Maxwell‘s community supported sound system. Join us!!
Derek designed these and we began printing at Beyond Repair late last night. Yet another edition within the Public Address Free Poster Series. These are but a few of the 100 languages spoken in Minnesota, and some of the ones spoken predominantly in our neighborhood. Neighbors unite in radical love and fierce resistance to hate, violence, and white supremacy. The 9th Ward is the world and we’re keeping it that way!
Come into the shop and pick up yours of free.
About a half-hour ago I was sitting here in Beyond Repair with Steven and had a bit of a shock. Who stepped into the Midtown Global Market, looking around, confused, not sure where to go? None other than MPD Police Federation President, Bob Kroll. He soon walked off, looking for something. Intrigued, I left Steven in the shop and walked around the market looking for Bob. Was he searching for us? If not, was he hungry? Where would he eat?
It seems though, while I was gone, Bobby found his way to the shop. He came in, saw a stack of Sgt. Kroll Goes to the Office, took about four or five, and avoiding any eye contact or interaction with Steven of any kind, quickly walked out.
I’ve been extremely happy, and frankly somewhat surprised, at the overwhelmingly positive reception this action has elicited. Both from the public at large, as well as elected officials in MPLS city government. Furthermore, it seems the action has been effective enough to get back to Lt. Kroll, and drive him across town to what he refers to in the comic as our “shit-hole neighborhood!” But hey, art will compel you into worlds that, prior to exposure, one would never dare to venture. I congratulate Lt. Kroll for, once again, braving the wilds of South MPLS.
All this said, I feel it is important for me to make this public; after the release of Sgt. Kroll Goes to the Office many people have urged me to publicly state the fact that Kroll, MPD, and their allies could retaliate in some way. Maybe, maybe not. But I agree that it is important to state that this possibility is, in fact, logical to consider and on my mind.
As an example, after the production of the comic was made public, but not yet released, the car in the above photo parked directly outside our home one afternoon. Having constructed low-wattage radio stations in the past I was interested, but also confused, by the DIY antenna apparatus on the roof of the vehicle. Something was off with its construction and orientation. I took a photo and sent it to a friend who is far more knowledgeable in that area than I am. He stated that, while not definitive, his guess was that it was a “cell phone sniffer.” What’s that? Well, myself and the small group who organized the visit to Mayor Hodges house last November, on the night the police were cracking down at the 4th Precinct Shutdown, are well aware of what it is. Area journalists, through a FOIA request, were able to find out as well. It’s a device that can read your text messages and listen in to your phone calls. It’s a tactic that MPD used that night and what allowed them to meet us at the Mayor’s house in advance of our arrival. And who knows, maybe it’s what is on top of the van outside our home in this photo. Or maybe not.
All of this sounds terribly psychotic and paranoid. But paranoia often arises out of social landscapes that speak towards something larger than each singular, seemingly fantastical, worry or suspicion. A kernel of truth exists in each.
So, if I start getting pulled over a lot; if we suddenly have numerous coding violations on our home; if, god forbid, DHS and MPD knock down our door over alleged child abuse accusations (which happened not long ago to a friend here in town who is critical of the police and their tactics; if I happen to be walking home and have the shit beat out of me, well, we all know who’s hand is at play. (Hi, Bobby!)
And this goes for ALL the artists involved in its production, and everyone else helping with its distribution as well.
I was sad to miss Bob when he visited the shop. I genuinely would have liked to have talked to him about his actions and ours. I called the Police Union a short while after we missed one another, but he wasn’t there. So I left a message on his voicemail inviting him to call me back to talk about the work. Maybe even have a book signing at the shop?
So Bob, it’s apparent that you are, in fact, paying attention to all this. I invite you to talk about it, but please don’t hit me – or accuse me of anything, or fuck with my kids, or listen into my phone calls or read my emails – let’s just talk.
I’ll be at Beyond Repair noon tomorrow. See you here. I’ll buy you a coffee.
Coming soon w. Dan S. Wang, Erick Lyle, Andrea Jenkins, Monica Haller, and many more…
Tonight! The release of My Singularity and Against the Picture – Window: A Time of the Phoenix Compendium at The White Page. Join us!!
Poems will be read. Books will be on offer. Drinks on hand.
TIME OF THE PHOENIX
Time of the Phoenix was a series of chapbooks produced and circulated around the Uptown area of Chicago and further afield from the late 1960s to the mid-70s, which served as a platform for the urban white poor of the neighborhood. Through poetry and other verse, authors articulate their lives in relation to police abuse, living in poverty, domestic violence, addiction and more. A vehicle for a voiceless population to find voice with one another, Time of the Phoenix was a tactical action in print devised by the Young Patriots—a group of radicalized, young southern white migrants living in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood. Along with “organizing in their own” through projects such as the chapbook series, the YPO went on to help form the Rainbow Coalition with the Young Lords, and Fred Hampton and the Black Panthers.
Working with founding YPO member, Hy Thurman, Society Editions has published Against the Picture – Window: A Time of the Phoenix Compendium, a collection of original works which appeared in Time of the Phoenix, as well as original photographic documents, interviews, commentary, and contemporary poetic works which speak across history and experience to the voices which originally appeared in the chapbook series.
My Singularity brilliantly graphs the myth of Pinocchio onto the contemporary flux of human identity amid advances in artificial intelligence and the human genome project, crafting a deeply felt extended metaphor for the physical body as site of meaning, a screen onto which multiple stories are at all times being projected. Sun Yung Shin’s intelligence and empathetic reach appear infinite as she imbues a wooden puppet with the kind of pathos we normally reserve for ourselves. The poem demonstrates an ethos at work typified by W.B. Yeats’s claim that “the quarrels we have with others are rhetoric / The quarrels we have with ourselves is poetry.” Allowing the latter to show itself is no small feat in a political climate that engenders discord and factionalism at every turn. Her poem searches the identity of the orphan, the manufactured psyche, the worker, and locates the vulnerable body of the nation-state as it exists as a living, breathing organism.
My Singularity is a single poem published as a chapbook by Society Editions.
Society is a construction, dismantled and reformed daily, yearly, through our perceptions and public pronouncements, either shouted or whispered. As an expandable publishing platform, Society concerns itself with the intersection where poetry meets speech and where private and public life collide. Society is timely and agile, responsive and responsible, paper and air.
If poetry can act as an ethical barometer of a population in time, Society changes with you and you change Society. Society is a response and then a record.
As an imprint, through a yearly almanac, individual books, chaplets, posters, actions, programs, et al, Society aims to pick away and uncover the role and possibilities of poetry as public speech, how abstract, or seemingly obtuse, texts can engage and decipher very real and timely issues around public life and power.
Society Editions is co-edited by Mary Austin Speaker, Chris Martin, and Sam Gould
Almost here… the first edition of Publics and Publication Nº1; Emory Douglas. Rumor has it that our neighbor, Marlon James, is going to write the forward to it as well!
Here’s a bit of a primer to Emory’s genius.
Our old friend, Helena Keeffe, came into town the other day to celebrate May Day and, simply, hang out. I first met Helena, and her then boyfriend, now husband, Joseph Del Pesco here in Minneapolis when Laura and I were visiting Laura’s family way back in 2001. At the time Joseph was the curator at the Soap Factory here in MPLS.
A few years later Helena and Joseph moved out to San Francisco so that he could start attending the curatorial grad program at California College of the Arts. Not long after that I started teaching at CCA in the newly formed graduate department for Social Practice. As I was still living in Portland I’d fly down for the times I taught and Joseph and Helena were always around, knocking on the window of our friend Jen Rhoads’s house – their neighbor who I’d introduced them too – asking if I wanted to go down the road to get a breakfast burrito at our favorite West Oakland taco truck. All said, we’ve always kept in touch, experienced one another’s ideas and projects in various states both at home and out in the world.
When Helena was in town it made me think, “Oh, can you paint the shops sign?” Of course she said yes. I knew I couldn’t do it as I hate looking at my hand-writing all day. So, I cooked dinner for her and Laura and the kids while Helena sketched out the measurements for the lettering. After the family went to bed we stayed up as Helena painted our new signs and we talked into the night.
I bring all of this up as it represents exactly the type of work and exchange that form around affectionate relationships – you don’t think of it as work, and you certainly don’t feel you are “giving something away” through the exchange. It’s people coming together to make one another’s lives happier, easier, and more appealing. When I say “affectionate” I mean both kindness and care and love, but I also mean “affect,” the way that all of those qualities change you when you allow people and the world to make you who you are, when you allow yourself to be changed through proximity to others.
All of this could seem slight, and in some ways – quite wonderfully – it is. When it gets to the point that it is reflexive and organic, mundanity can seem like symbiosis. When considered more deeply, even these small moments – making a sign for a friend, cooking for one another; a simple exchange of skills and values – can seem, and be, mutual aid as Kropotkin thought of it, or like Morris’s ideas of fellowship.
The Walker Art Center just published this really great piece about the shop and the theories and interests of the project in full. Check it out.