This book analyses the use of the past and the production of heritage through architectural design in the developmental context of Iran. It is the first of its kind to utilize a multidisciplinary approach in probing the complex relationship between architecture, development, and heritage. It uses established theoretical concepts including notions of globalism, nostalgia, tradition, and authenticity to show that development is a major cause of historical transformations in places such as Iran and its effects must be seen in relation to global political and historical exchanges as well as local specificities. Iran is a pertinent example as it has endured radical cultural and political shifts in the past five decades. Scholars of heritage and architecture will find the cross-disciplinary aspects of the book useful. The premise of the book is that transposed into other contexts, development, as a globalizing project originating in the West, instigates renewed forms of historical consciousness and imaginations of the past. This is particularly evident in architecture where, through design processes, the past produces forms of architectural heritage. But such historic consciousness cannot be reduced to political ideology, while politics is always in the background. The book shows this through chapters focusing on theoretical context, international exchanges made in architectural congresses in the 1970s, housing as the vehicle for everyday heritage, and symbolic public architecture intended to reflect monumental time. The book is written in accessible language to benefit academic researchers and graduate students in the fields of heritage, architecture, and Iranian and Middle Eastern studies.
There is no soundtrack is a specific yet expansive study of sound tactics deployed in experimental media art today. It analyses how audio and visual elements interact and produce meaning, drawing from works by contemporary media artists ranging from Chantal Akerman, to Nam June Paik, to Tanya Tagaq. It then links these analyses to discussions on silence, voice, noise, listening, the soundscape, and other key ideas in sound studies. In making these connections, the book argues that experimental media art – avant-garde film, video art, performance, installation, and hybrid forms – produces radical and new audio-visual relationships that challenge and destabilize the visually-dominated fields of art history, contemporary art criticism, cinema and media studies, and cultural studies as well as the larger area of the human sciences. This book directly addresses what sound studies scholar Jonathan Sterne calls ‘visual hegemony’. It joins a growing body of interdisciplinary scholarship that is collectively sonifying the study of culture while defying the lack of diversity within the field by focusing on practitioners from transnational and diverse backgrounds. Therefore, the media artists discussed in this book are of interest to scholars and students who are exploring aurality in related disciplines including gender and feminist studies, queer studies, ethnic studies, postcolonial studies, urban studies, environmental analysis, and architecture. As such, There Is No Soundtrack makes meaningful connections between previously disconnected bodies of scholarship to build new, more complex and reverberating frameworks for the study of art, media, and sound.
bound in solidarity and committed to creating a collective future beyond climate breakdown – where tear gas reveals its expansive entanglements – must certainly decolonize this place, and this and that one too, organizing a transnational network of resistance capable of challenging the transnational power of capital. But we must also decolonize our future, rescuing it from the disaster of green capitalist, and worse eco-fascist, ‘inevitability’ facilitated by an irresponsible emergency politics
foundations for → art workers’ involvement in other struggles, such as the current pro-choice protests of the Women Strike in Poland, in which many of the core organisers and supporters of the Anti-fascist Year actively partake. The anti-fascist impulse that motivated MoMA protesters in 2017 was carried over into the actions of Decolonize This Place, People's Cultural Plan (more in → C is for curatorial mode of production / revolution ). Interestingly, the image with the banner ‘Resistance Against Fascism is the Best Art’ was used by the editors of Hyperallergic to
, of collating resources, finding allies and rallying other projectarians. They usually have pretty visible outcomes. When activists from G.U.L.F. (Global Ultra Luxury Fraction) temporarily occupied the Guggenheim in New York to protest against the appalling conditions of labour for workers constructing the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi (2011), the museum management responded to this action by closing their premises to visitors and emptying the exhibition halls, while art-activists engaged in fervent discussions and ad hoc assemblies. When Decolonize This Place protested the
by Decolonize This Place (DTP) and taking place at the Whitney Museum of Art presents the opportunity to transform how we build and fund our cultural institutions. It suggests the need for a complete system change including a new focus on private money, to a system that justly taxes Wall Street and the wealthy, as well as asking cultural nonprofits to amend the way they create boards and accept charity
(The People's Cultural Plan 2019 ).
To activate the curatorial mode of
differentiated from decolonisation. Chen says ‘Decolonization is the attempt of the previously colonized to reflectively work out a historical relation with the former colonizer, culturally, politically, and economically’, yet ‘deimperialization, which is no less painful and reflexive, is work that must be performed by the colonizer first, and then on the colonizer’s relation with its former colonies’ (Chen, 2010 : 4). Deimperialisation occurs at the site of theory, policy, and practice in the imperial centre rather than at the site of the (post)colony. Thus, while Indigenous
Stepping back somewhat, I now propose to offer some ecocritical political orientation, starting with some of the standard ‘green’ political positions on which environmental humanities stands or, at its most extreme edges, deconstructs or makes newly radical. Andrew Dobson, in his useful introduction to Green Political Thought , defines ‘political ecology’ (a term used purposefully by T. J. Demos in Decolonizing Nature , for instance) as a viewpoint that holds that ‘a sustainable and fulfilling existence presupposes radical changes in our relationship with the non
diverse domains where a materialist, ecological art history might seem most obviously to exist.
1 See T. J. Demos’s opening observation in Decolonizing Nature , that art history and visual studies have ignored political ecology. T. J. Demos, Decolonizing Nature: Contemporary Art and the Politics of Ecology (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2016), 7.
2 Clark, Ecocriticism on the Edge , 32.
3 Reprinted in Charles Harrison and Paul Wood, Art in Theory, 1900–1990: An Anthology of Changing Ideas (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 1073
their environment’. 65 Nowhere has the undecidable, the occluded, the oblique and the defamiliarised as a redress against domination and hierarchy been more productively present than in some of the ecofeminist and queer writing we turn to now.
1 Demos, Decolonizing Nature: Contemporary Art and the Politics of Ecology , 38. Other projects are well summarised in ‘Short History of Eco-Art Exhibitions’ in Sue Spaid, Ecovention: Current Art to Transform Ecologies (Cincinnati, OH: Contemporary Arts Center, 2002).