Collection: Center for Experimental Lectures

Address Not Found

This collection of digital objects scratches the surface of some of the questions we like to puzzle over the most: What are the possibilities for public speaking now? How is learning something we do with our bodies? What is the materiality of acquiring knowledge? And what is important about being in a room with others, watching something together? We hope these 10 works offer some methods for reconsidering the possibilities of showing each other things in public.

Collection: Bryce Wilner

Open Font License

When I type, sometimes, writing to somebody I’m not too interested in (or don’t have much to communicate to although I owe this person an email), I get some phrase that stays in my head a few seconds until it hazes to something as hard to recall as a dream. It may be the string “bbbbbbbbbbbb” that I press into my keyboard and stare through before I delete it from my screen and my brain. I can’t say whether the sound or the image of the string comes first; they seem to occur simultaneously and disappear in much the same way. And I can’t say with surety that the way the string looks influences how I pronounce it in my head. This sequence can loop for minutes before I remember where I am in my workflow and in my schedule. I raise my face out of the white text entry field into a desk space surrounded by printed paper and hand-written notes. And grinning like a tiger!

Collection: Asha Schechter

Apocalyptic Lifestyles

Even before 2017’s floods, fires and explicit nuclear threat, the doomsday clock had been ticking towards midnight, spurred on by the warming planet and the hothead in the White House. Survivalists have been around since the 1930s, but all of a sudden, prepping (making plans for civilizational annihilation) started to feel like the not-crazy thing to do. But how to go about it? Become a one-person militia and stock up on camo and bullets? If you’re a too-rich tech bro, you disrupt the apocalypse: get Lasik, build a panic room and buy an apartment in a luxury tower submerged below the surface of the earth. Or at the very least you could get a few chickens and learn to can and pickle in the spirit of a 1960’s utopian commune. As speculative preparation and luxury homesteading become more mainstream, they have dovetailed with the broadcasting of lifestyle through aesthetic and dietary choices. While we flail towards an unknown future, we decide whether to prep or to simply accept our fate as the last generation of human beings, the ones that finally ruined everything.

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