“-Oh no, don’t do it… Don’t, not the ladder, not the attic.” It happens every time, why do they have to, all these nice American adolescents ready to be slaughtered, cut to pieces, ripped apart, their panic ridden gazes, and I know it’s just a film and it’s supposed to produce fear, and still I can’t hold back. “-Don’t go there!” I’m addicted to fear. Makes me feel alive. Fear is my new autopoiesis, it’s silent like my psychoanalyst. It’s not the violence, blood or gore that makes it, it’s suspended time, the lack of telos that attracts me. The blood part might be scary and disgusting, but that’s just a matter of cleaning up, using an efficient tool or wearing rubber gloves. Fear is the shit, and it is fear exactly because it’s not recognizable and offers no solutions. That’s exactly the groovy part; fear is the experience of authenticity. Fear is my new sexual phantasy, the latest wet dream produced by capitalism, and the experience of authenticity its latest commodity.
No, it’s obviously not about becoming authentic – you will still have your performativity – it’s about the experience of authenticity, which can only be provided by a simulated situation that disqualifies telos, that departs from communication in favor of pure communicability, or from causality, and instead calls for, so to say, disinterested movement, gesture without signification. This experience is necessarily individual, it is not as we have seen discursive and can not be inscribed in modes of interpretation; it operates directly on subjectivity, i.e. on one’s own subjectivity thus becoming a product one consumes.
Make pieces that produce fear. That make the audience pale, totally fear ridden when helplessly applauding at the end of the performance. Affect, our last outpost, has become commodity. It’s pretty much amazing, global capitalism has managed to finanzialize potentiality as such. But as much as fear can produce economy and stability, in respect of immobility, fear can also become productive of other economies and instability, corruption. Insist on fear, put your spectators in a state of an endless “don’t go there”. This has obviously nothing to do with proposing something violent or spectacularly dangerous, not at all, what is scary is excessive abstraction. An abstraction produced through strong entities and extremely weak connections. Fear is precisely the lack of connection, organization and frame. Fear isn’t collaborating, isn’t negotiating, it doesn’t talk to programmers, doesn’t love its audience, doesn’t present itself: fear exists.
Vampires are last Friday and their films a sentimentalism vis-à-vis a long gone capitalism organized around materiality and what can be extracted from the environment. The zombie is a kind of immaterial worker, travelling in flocks compulsively laboring as pure activity. The new zombie isn’t a Bolshevik or some grey communist, oh no nowadays the zombie is a interior decorator, lives in London, puts on well-balanced house music in his office, drives a SUV and is really good with the kids. Haven’t we become auto-vampires, consuming our own subjectivity, like sucking ones own blood. Capitalism has entered its homeopathic era, we are in a loop that produces economy due an endless consumption of one’s subjectivity.
We have no choice but to be meta-vampires suckin ourselves, but to the same extent that capital can produce experience of this kind, so can you and me. We have no choice but to engage in the worst most ruthless and amazing financial and capitalist strategies, and in fact we have no choice, cuz we can’t have any other intentions than to do the same. There is no disguise anymore, we can only produce more, and there is no escape but that is perhaps an opportunity as well as… I like it, the possibility of consuming one’s own attention, that’s when hyper-camouflage becomes tangible.
It’s sort of fearful in itself, but you are aware about the fact that your next, and my upcoming piece will deal with time and space – – yes, that shit that we have always rejected as a bad excuse or some sick relation to exploration (btw exploration is a bad word, it’s like bad education: patronizing) – – but this time it is not what time and space can do, or what the body can do with, or in it, but rather a matter of producing time as pure duration (unconditioned time) and a space without signification. This isn’t some sillilitude about smooth shit, oh no this is a time that can but be experienced although not measured, related or codified, it is a space that intensifies experience but offers no horizon. This is like an endlessly suspended journey up in the attic. There won’t be nobody to say boohoo, no ghost that can removed with a brush or monster that needs a visit to the dentist, it will be nothing at all and that is just fear. Colorless fear.