“Good artists copy, great artists steal.” - Pablo Picasso

The Environmental Witch-Hunt

July 2nd, 2008

The Environmental Witch-Hunt
Statement by the French Group
1970

The French Group, which has been invited to this conference, has decided not to bring a positive contribution.

The group believes that too many matters, and essential ones, have not been voiced here as regards the social and political status of Design, as regards the ideological functions and the mythology of environment.

In these circumstances, any participation could not but reinforce the ambiguity and the complicity of silence which hangs over this meeting. So we prefer to present you a text expressing our positions.

The burning question of Design and Environment has neither suddenly fallen from the heavens nor spontaneously risen from the collective consciousness: It has its own history. Professor Banham has clearly shown the moral and technical limits and the illusions of Design and Environment practice. He didn’t approach the social and political definition of this practice. it is not by accident that all the Western governments have now launched (in France in particular for the last six months) this new crusade, and try to mobilize people’s conscience by shouting apocalypse.

In France, the environment issue is a fall-out of May, 1968, more precisely a fall-out of the failure of the May revolution. Ideology, which the political power tries to divert onto rivers and national parks, could happen in the street. In the United States, it is not a coincidence that this new mystique, this new frontier has been developed during and parallel to the Vietnam war. There is in France and in the States a potential crisis situation. Both here and there the governments restructured their fundamental ideology in order to face this crisis and surmount it. We see that ultimately the real issue is not the survival of the human species but the survival of political power. In this sense, environment, design, fight against pollution, and so on, pick up the torch in the history of ideology from the great crusade of human relations which followed the great 1929 crisis. At that time, the capitalist system succeeded in reviving production and in restructuring itself by means of an immense injection of publicity, of services, of public relations into consumerism, enterprises, and social life.

Today, when new and larger contradictions affect the internal structures of the overdeveloped countries and force them, all together, on a world scale, into opposition with the underdeveloped countries, the system comes up with a worldwide ideology that could remake the holy union of mankind, beyond class discrimination, beyond wars, beyond neo imperialistic conflicts. Once again, this holy union created in the name of environment is nothing but the holy union of the ruling classes of the rich nations.

In the mystique of human relations, it was a question of recycling, readapting, and reconciling both individuals and groups to the social context given as norm and as ideal. In the mystique of environment, it is a matter of recycling, readapting, and reintegrating the individual in the context of nature given as an ideal. Compared with the preceding ideology, this one is even more regressive, more simplistic, but for that reason even more efficient. Social relations with their conflicts and history are completely rejected in favor of nature, with a diversion of all energies to a boy scout idealism, with a naive euphoria in a hygienic nature.

The theory of environment pretends to be based on actual and evident problems. But pollution, nuisances, dysfunctions are technical problems related to a social type of production. Environment is quite another problem, crystallizing the conscience on a Utopian model, on a collective enemy and, moreover, giving a guilty feeling to the collective consciousness. (We have met the enemy and he is us.) The crusade of environment goes from technical problems and technical solutions to simple and pure social manipulation. War and natural catastrophes have always been used to unify a disintegrating society. Today, it is “la mise-en scène” of a natural catastrophe or of a permanent apocalypse which plays the same role.

In the mystique of environment, this blackmail toward apocalypse and toward a mythic enemy who is in us and all around tends to create a false interdependence among individuals. Nothing better than a touch of ecology and catastrophe to unite the social classes, except perhaps a witch hunt (the mystique of antipollution being nothing but a variation of it).

Problems of design and environment only look like objective ones. In fact, they are ideological problems.

This crusade, which puts again, but on another level, the themes of Kennedy’s New Frontier, as well as the fighting against poverty as the theme of the Great Society (in France, the New Society), constitutes a complete ideological structure, a social drug, a new “opium of the people.” In one sense, it would be too easy to compare napalm bombing in Vietnam with the loving care with which people here protect flora and fauna—one could make a fabulous list of all the evident contradictions in which this new idealism is sinking. But there is here a misunderstanding, and the opposition between chlorophyll and napalm exists only in appearance. In fact, it is the same thing. In Vietnam, the fight is against communist pollution. Here the fight is against water pollution. To lock Indians and black people (in France, Algerians and Portuguese) in reservations and ghettos, that is also a fight against pollution. It is the same logic that organizes all these aspects, the ideological process consisting in disguising in humanistic values some practices (such as the fight against pollution) to oppose them formally to other practices (such as the war in Vietnam), which are then considered only as a deplorable reality and an accident. We must clearly see that there is a same policy, a same system of values fundamentally operating here, and that everywhere the established power has always fought against pollution, evidently against the pollution of the establishment itself. This enemy that each of us is invited to hunt and destroy is all that pollutes social order and production order.

It is not true that society is ill, that nature is ill. the therapeutic mythology which tries to convince us that, if things are going wrong, it is due to microbes, to virus, or to some biological dysfunctions, this therapeutic mythology hides the political fact, the historical fact that it is a question of social structures and social contradictions, not a question of illness or deficient metabolism, which could easily be cured.

All the designers, the architects, the sociologists who are acting like medicine men toward this ill society are accomplices in this interpretation of the question in terms of illness, which is another form of hoax.

In conclusion, we say that this new environmental and naturistic ideology is the most sophisticated and pseudoscientific form of a naturistic mythology, which has always consisted in transferring the ugly reality of social relations to an idealized model of marvelous nature, to an idealized relationship between man and nature.

Aspen is the Disneyland of environment and design. We are speaking here about universal therapy, about apocalypse in a magic ambiance. But the real problem is far beyond Aspen—it is the entire theory of design and environment itself, which constitutes a generalized Utopia, a Utopia produced by a capitalist system that assumes the appearance of a second nature in order to survive and perpetuate itself under the pretext of nature.

“The Environmental Witch-Hunt. Statement by the French Group. 1970” in The Aspen Papers: Twenty Years of Design Theory from the International Design Conference in Aspen, edited by Reyner Banham (New York: Praeger 1974), p.208–210.

[the French Group = Jean Aubert and Jean Baudrillard]

problems-problems.pdf

Chitrakarkhana: picture factory - artist food

July 1st, 2008

This interview was first published in Digital Media and Democracy. Tactics in Hard Times edited by Megan Boler and published May 2008 by the MIT Press. It is also available here. Shaina Anand, as an artist who has and will engage with Gasworks Residency Programme various times in 2008 and 2009, will soon have her own Pipeline category. However, it’s her background in documentary filmmaking - and particularly its ethics in relation to global economies of representation - that is of interest here with relation to current residency artist Pedro Ortuno’s research.

Chitrakarkhana: picture factory - artist food, Interview with Shaina Anand,
Media Activist, with Alessandra Renzi and Megan Boler.

Shaina Anand is a filmmaker and media artist who works collaboratively with video and televised media. She is the founder of ChitraKarKhana (picture factory/artist food) a fully independent unit for practical media, based in Mumbai. ChitraKarKhana’s media interventions, employ cheap and accessible DIY video and editing hardware skills to produce on-site televised media.

We use examples from Anand’s work to explore media and information politics, as well as moments of critique of and experimentation with video as a documentary form. Rustle TV (2004) was a temporary TV channel set up inside Russell Market, Bangalore. The market presented a microcosm of the real world, over which was forced an idealistic “utopia”: the people in the market became the clients, the “stars” and the primary audience, while a group of students performed in the service of the community and delivered the programming.

The project, WI city TV (2005) transmitted programming to 3000 homes in and around Shivaji Nagar, Bangalore, through an existing “informal” local cable channel. Local programming generated daily was spun off from the world-information.org conference, its themes and participants. This was an “intervention” in the conference itself, but more importantly, it pushed outwards into the immediate neighbourhood of spaces, languages and infopolitics.

KhirkeeYaan (2006) is an open-circuit TV system, a local area network communication and feedback device. It employs cheap security apparatuses, otherwise used for surveillance for the “use” of the community-at-large. Here, on-site, public access to video feedback in real-time encourages experiments in community “networking”, performance, and automated storytelling and filmmaking.

“Recurrencies- across electricity and the urban” (2007), with Ashok Sukumaran, documents a number of electrical “public works” primarily based in Mumbai. It looks at alternative media currencies, altered circuits of information infrastructure from the bottom up, foregrounding issues of contemporary power, information flows, and property and control relationships.

In Anand’s work, these sites of intervention become players in the creation of autonomous media, generated for their own “use”. This negotiation is at each step tenuous, made possible by person-to-person interaction. The intervention is selforganized, messy, grey and at all times collaborative.

This interview took place through a phone conversation between Mumbai and Toronto in March 2007.
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Alessandra Renzi: First I was wondering, how did you come to media activism?

Shaina Anand: I came to media activism from filmmaking. My early training as a film student was probably instrumental in shaping a political worldview, mainly through an exposure to world cinema from Latin America, Europe, North America and East Asia, and what we called parallel cinema, a movement we had in India in the 60s and 70s outside of the industry of mainstream Bollywood. We had a realist cinema, we had socialist cinema, and so on. Filmmaking did, in a sense shape an early worldview, what we call Nazariya, a way of seeing.

An early mentor of sorts was Saeed Mirza, a filmmaker I worked with while I was still in my teens –a lot of my early political thinking came from him. I used to write fiction then. But I began thinking very closely about issues of power, power dynamics and power structures within the politics and processes of filmmaking exactly 10 years ago, in ’97. I was assistant director on a documentary with the same director I mentioned. We travelled the country, all of India, by road for six months non-stop making a serialized documentary: A tryst with the people of India.

Our intentions were noble – a very sensitized director, politically aware, politically correct. The agenda for this documentary was to speak to the ordinary Indian – to give representation to that subaltern voice, analyze what went wrong in 50 years since a democratic India, and so on and so forth. This journey shifted my (pre)occupation with the medium, a turning point where I questioned my career choice and our filmmaking practice: issues about the technology, the methodology of filmmaking, or film craft, an acute awareness of the machinery of a film crew –Beta cameras, big mic, boom operator, asst camera man, sound recordist, camera and recorder attendants. A crew of six handling the gear and a director asking the questions, and three assistant directors who would butt in, there would be a camera man who would be angry when lighting was not beautiful, a sound recordist who would be bugged when a baby in the village would cry mid interview.

I began questioning where the agency came from and what happens to all this footage and experience in the face and veneer of a 30-minute episode. And mind you, this is India: four large jeeps going down roads where cars have not been, again and again through the vast and brutally diverse country. At 21, this journey stayed with me. I began re-watching the footage and writing critically about it, asking others and myself about documentary aesthetics and ethics, grappling with the idea of India in the 90’s.

GATT has happened. We had entered the new trade order. Rather belligerently and happily because we have the largest democracy in the world. We went nuclear on 12th May 1998. A bunch of colleagues –we called ourselves the Indian People’s Media Collective– started organizing talks and screening films on nuclearization and militarism in colleges.

Those were very deterministic times, there was almost no nuclear debate in the mainstream media in the subcontinent, just like there had not been any globalization debate. This same decade had witnessed a sweeping rise of majority communalism. Urban campuses were politically insipid. Authorities would not allow screenings. We had to manoeuver around, build our networks from the inside, via “sensitized” professors and sustain the campaign. We even organized students and musicians and activists and pulled off a huge 12- hour concert on Hiroshima day. Back then, we were just grappling with the violent 90’s. There was naivety and not much for the youth to hold on to as precedence. The left had gotten left behind in a dark hole. Then technology got cheap and got DIY.

I come from privilege: Educated, middle class, the Internet access generation in Bombay, center of the TV industry, of Bollywood, financial capital and all of that. I thought the digital revolution would herald radical cinema. Cheap technology for alternative media would change things. Soon I thought otherwise. But, these were my early inroads into media activism, though I am never comfortable calling it that.

AR: So basically what you are saying is that it was part of a generational shift. This is certainly your personal experience but is it also a kind of broader phenomenon in India, where there is a generation now that has more access to these forms of technology, and is more politicized through the 90s?

SA: Good question, though I am not sure I could validate that. A decade ago we were all getting stoned and thirsting for radical cinema, young and cynical believing no one will fund it. And three years later, certainly, no one needed to fund it. We could do it together, by ourselves. But strangely, I felt alone in that space. It seemed so easy to say “Let’s get up and do it, let’s not complain, but try”. I did not see it happening as much as I thought it would. We still waited for our budgets, we still waited till an NGO wanted to fund it, we still waited till there was a better camera, we still needed an XLR mic for sound, so there was always something lacking. I do not think that media, DIY media really caught on as fast as I thought it should have.

Megan Boler: And do you think that that is a question of the kind of access to resources that you were describing? Or, Alessandra was asking was there a new generation of interest in this media activism?

SA: Soon enough, many people could access the technology. A telling point was how quickly all our TV channels started exploiting the resources. While we were still paying commercial fees to go to editing studios, which of course by then were using souped-up PCs or consumer Macs. Everyone was shooting mini-DV and you needed to watch news on TV here to know how they were on top of things, just like now they are using phone videos, hidden cameras and broadband if they need to – any kind of technology. But us independent practitioners– we were a little behind.

I still joke, being so aware of tactical media - about the Sangh Parivar- the Hindu Rights think-tank’s strategies in the 90’s when we had this rise of majority communalism- how effectively and locally their networks masterminded hate: flyers, pamphlets, boycotts, all- India rallies spreading hatespeech on a Mythical Air-conditioned Chariot, the Rath Yatra’s. They were appropriating mailing lists and electoral databases to send you propaganda videotapes in your mailbox, they would telejam via local cable networks, cut out ads and insert their propaganda, CD’s slipped inside news magazines. So, DIY and tactical media strategies were being claimed much faster by either mainstream media or by political parties and their “cultural” wings. Also, in the wake of liberalization, we had quickly moved into that post-Marxist phase where activists –all with integrity– began working for the sudden proliferation of NGOs flush with funds, because “they had to”. They could not sustain their “struggle” – the left was decimated. So a decade goes by caught amidst liberalization, the technological moment and the possibilities are missed by one generation on the field.

Having said that, we do have a strong documentary film movement. A lot of politically motivated filmmakers continue to make relevant films and a shared footage collective formed after the Gujarat riots marked an interesting turn. But its use and strategy was caught up in self-righteous and proprietary zeal. Also, they do not question the form. They provide some political context and alternative, rarely a political critique of the form or process.

AR: I would say that that is probably not just a problem in India. That is very common with filmmakers everywhere. I found interesting what you were saying about the NGOs – I am not aware of many projects here in Canada for instance, or the European countries I am familiar with  which are affiliated with NGOs. It is usually independent activist groups that may recur to media activism to further their cause. But I find it interesting, because a lot of NGOs are also connected to bigger structures and institutions, so in a way it is a funny link between independent media making and some kind of institutions.

SA: Yeah, it is a funny link. But it is something that is here to stay. And we cannot sit high on exclusive autonomy. Yet, an acute awareness of being co-opted, of using funding –this social capital that in one sense is systemic to maintaining status-quos or “adjusting” social conditions –needs to inform our practice. Tactics and strategies have to evolve around these dilemmas. In most of my interventions, I begin by conceptually interrogating the funding source and then carefully positioning the project, be it for an alternative information conference, a workshop or an artist residency.

Despite an NGO or more for everything, our public culture is in abject poverty. This is also perhaps why I shift from “break the bank and end the war” to what I see as micropolitics, or more correctly interventions into political ramification of everyday life. And yes, I am cynical of a lot of NGO-driven community-based stuff in India that begins and ends with power politics: the “we are giving things to you and we are telling you what’s good for you” kind of approach.

MB: Are there examples of NGO funding, in your mind, radically reshaping the work of an independent media/tactical media artist? Or more generally, is your concern that when there is NGO funding, it really changes what the artist or activist wants to produce?

SA: I would have to think about it, I am not sure I have a particular example. But I can be categorical of the fact that most independent media practitioners or activists pacify their politics when funded. Large “progressive” cultural organizations posture more, preach a little and do much less, when funding increases. With video and documentary, I think my grouse is basically in the kind of media that is generated. It is often either very top down or repressed in its aesthetics and rendering of a politically correct picture, or it sits on a higher fence that often I am critical of.

AR: That is what I was wondering. What is the link and how do the two elements interact and what kind of product comes out?

SA: It is also subjective. There of course are positive effects if you are thinking broadly about alternative media. For example, certain films made after the Gujarat riots were crucial in talking about the pogrom and the fury of hate that had ruptured. Thanks to NGOs, there were sustained screening campaigns that managed to convey to an unpoliticised audience a lot of facts on the riots and state-terrorism that the mainstream media would not tell you about.

In my own works, I see this collaboration (and calibration) very transparently. Other than community driven or peer/self organized initiatives, appropriating small amounts of culture funds is one “survive and flourish” strategy. Small funding but yet the kind of product that comes out is by no means modest. And to me, video does not lie. That is the good and bad part about video. To critical eyes, it reveals a lot. As a filmmaker, I am always looking at the products and asking where is the agency? Where is the power reversal for these people who have become your subjects?

A little aside, to bridge the gap between my cynicism with video and its use in my current work processes: on 9/11, I started working on what began to look like an epic, it was a film called Tellavision Mumbai. I was at home with my video camera in hand, watching those Twin Towers being hit and coming down, filming it over and over again for over two hours. In the weeks that followed this moment of reckoning –this supposed end of America’s “holiday from history”– factions and remnants of our completely fractured left started popping out of virtual oblivion. Emails, demonstrations, street plays, public meetings –interventions were sorely needed. We have the second largest Muslim population in the world, there was fear of persecution, but there was also hope that groups would come together to counter balance the war spin. I began this very systematic documentation of what I ironically saw as the invisible public culture of the city: trade union solidarity meetings, ultra left demonstrations, citizens action groups, journalist networks, Muslim cultural organizations, Gandhians, Human Rights activist groups –a sole reporter with a camera.

Back home, I would watch and film TV off the screen. From infinite justice to enduring freedom, the building up of the global coalition and the war in Afghanistan, I followed the timeline in a contrapuntal manner: ambient TV and direct DV. Each chronological event was preceded by a physical journey through the post-industrial and post-liberalised landscape of Bombay, into the heart of a street play or public meeting, and then journeying home on that timeline, back into fishbowl of global TV, war and ntertainment. Through all these episodes, I was trying to cull and stitch together a holistic discourse, a chronicle, a global media critique, a city searching for an articulation of a vision –and the reality: an ultimate critique of our public culture.

Watching a rough cut, a fellow activist filmmaker warned me that I should not be coopting one faction of the ultra left with another other more moderate one. But that was the whole point. They were all to be co-opted, and represented as presenting their information, which is what they are trying to do anyway. The film with its mega narrative was never completed even though each chronological event was made into a short film, countered and interpreted with the help of restless TV surfing bytes. I thought I should mention it, as this zero budget project did corroborate my disillusionment with straight up video, with empirical narratives, and shifted my focus to micro-politics, and very local effects in recent works.

MB: Shaina, I wondered if you could just say in a brief form, in a soundbite form, what was that you wanted to convey in this project that you did not get a chance to finish?

SA: The title said it, quite ambitiously: Tell-a-vision Mumbai. A public consciousness had mutated, been manufactured and realigned with global spin –9/11 was a media invent with far reaching effects like no other, and Tellavision Mumbai was an attempt to cast our vote, to inform and be informed and be counted in, but also to look into ourselves, the city, and subcontinent for symptoms and scars of this clash, of “us and them” politics. It was countering an almost private and invisible space of public dissent with the public, ubiquitous face of Private TV –tying to immerse and inform the viewer through this altered mediascape.

MB: What was the nature of the conversation at those protest events in India after September 11th? Specifically, what were people talking about and how was that related to reactions to mainstream media or corporate media representation of the events in the United States?

SA: Well, corporate media and mainstream media and the Bharatiya Janta Party (right wing Hindu fundamentalist party) that was in power then just picked up where George Bush, the Republicans and mainstream media in America left off. The government wilfully and jingoistically replicated Bush’s “good against evil”, “us vs them”, dividing the world –the clash of civilization speak.

Afghanistan is contiguous to India; America’s overt war was close by. The demon face of Osama and the Taliban, the projected crisis and partisan generalization of Islam and terrorism was eerily global, yet its effects were mirrored nationally and locally. CNN and BBC were the mainstay global news channels, we also had three or four Indian satellite news channels and state and regional channels. The educated Indian Middle Class surfed through all these channels, and the rhetoric was essentially the same. In the meetings I documented, the conversations sought to throw light on history, the cold war years, America’s covert war in Afghanistan, its support of corrupt dictators of Islamic nations, its interventions, coups and CIA operations across the globe. Voices would caution and speak of re-instilling our secular democratic fabric that had been ruptured often through the violent 90s, and was being fuelled to blow up again. Activist journalists critiqued media monopolies, abridged Chomsky and localized “manufacturing consent”. The Muslim intelligentsia and organizations came out strongly against fundamentalism and terrorism of all kinds. Peaceniks spoke about the cost of war –or what Arundhati Roy called the “algebra of infinite justice”. They called on the UN and Kofi Annan to “deserve” their 2001 Nobel peace price, to stand up to America. Neighbourhood Mohalla committees talked and worked to prevent riots. Human rights groups protested against the introduction of a new Prevention of Terrorism Ordinance that came into force soon after 9/11. The Marxists talked of empire and neo-liberalism, people like Medha Patkar retracted from rhetoric and brought our attention to the real war of power against people, their land and livelihood by the state or transnational empire. People gleaned texts from political theorists and alternative sites on the net, localized and translated them. Yet, the voices were miniscule, local alternative media was ineffective, reaching and preaching only to the converted and lacking in action, living in the nostalgic days of 70s when the left had the streets in the heart of the industrial city. I did feel my documentation and chronicle were valid, but the truth was in the video: there was an aching gap between people’s movements and the people.

The build-up to Iraq was different, a semblance of awareness, debate, moderation and total helplessness prevailed in the world, and in India, dissent had almost run out of that brief bit of decentralized, non-political party urgent renewal it had in 2001. The 9/11 and Afghanistan blitzkrieg was extreme in how it divided people. The Vishwa Hindu Parishad (World Hindu “cultural” Organization) whipped up the communal hate with global justification and in March 2002, a pressure valve was upped and opened: the torching of a train carrying Hindu pilgrims by “terrorists” and a wide-spread massacre of Muslim families in Gujarat carried out by party workers, police and educated middle class neighbours. The rightwing Hindu hate sites outnumbered independent or politically leftist sites.

Even Indymedia was causality[casualty?]  in India. It was around during September 11th but its energy was short lived, so that during the World Social Forum in Bombay people from all over the world were checking it out and its last entry was from 2 years earlier. There were enough urban youth and activists with internet access then, yet besides some individuals, there was no community network.

We do not have a precedence of net art or net activism, we did not have access to the net on a broader level. Now of course, educated youth have access to computers, a recent survey said net users in Bombay totaled 2 million. That is a sizable 12% of the city’s population, and some of our newer collaborative projects include building an online video footage archive, and an alternative community wireless mesh intranet and
information repository. Still, most of my works now intervene into physical space in India, where the ubiquitous information mass media devices everybody has are passive TVs and radios.

And yes, I still use video, like I was telling you, it does not lie to critical eyes. A while ago I read a very early essay by Critical Art Ensemble, maybe it was from The Electronic Disturbance [ii], it was the chapter on video resistance. It is a nasty chapter against documentary, saying it was born in a crisis and the technological invention of video, its instantaneity changed nothing in the retrograde tradition of documentary film. Come to think of it, all critique of documentary and its technology, all seminal shifts happened in the film medium, before video. Video technology is about feedback, instant broadcast – the TV is versatile unregulated hardware capable of receiving things in the air– and the moment comes with cheap accessible DIY. These cameras have screens on them, just flip the screen around and for me that is projection, that is broadcast. Carry 800 meters of cable, if you have to, and there are things one can do with wireless, illegally temporarily occupy the air.
Alternative media has to look actively beyond the anti-war website or documentary. There is more than enough of that and it is not breaking a bank or ending the war. Like Jodi Dean says in her essay, there is all this circulation of content, it is all mainstream. Arundhati Roy says it in a recent essay: “the information is out there, it is just going nowhere”. I think my tactical media practice has therefore shifted, it has moved into the generation of micro-media. It has developed by harvesting or claiming resources, and it is not necessarily events but everyday life and embedded politics that you dirty your hands with and respond to.

AR: This is one of the things I find most interesting: the way you trouble the idea of resources and the distribution of resources –not only media, but also electricity distribution in your new project. Can you tell us something more about that project and what kind of ideas are behind it?

SA: The project is called “Recurrencies- across electricity and the urban” where we are looking at “electronic commodities” that have become smoothly marketable closed systems. It is collaboration with my partner Ashok Sukumaran, whose installations and works have stretched across the fields of contemporary computer based art, cinema and architecture, imagining various kinds of “publicness”. With Recurrencies, we begin with electricity –that prefigured new media, cold media as Mcluhan called it (as opposed to hot media with content). We are exploring alternative media currencies, altered circuits of information infrastructure from bottom up, making technology newly curious about contemporary power, information flows and property and control relationships, with today’s ability to look back at the digital.

For example, electricity is fundamentally “open source”, it is not hidden, or encrypted, it does not take a serious hacker to break some code to modify it or steal it or tap into any stream at any given point. So, imagine a simple system: a switch could potentially trigger anything, breach boundaries, share networks, offer more participation, posit other informal utopian states…We intend to do several “acts”, installations around public infrastructures, and slowly shift media as well –video, airwaves, wireless, the future of so-called embedded or pervasive computing– then open up the project as it goes, begin to grow wild with some of these “currencies”, with local communities –across the open.

AR: I especially like the play with “re-currencies” because the guiding thread of electricity can transversally connect to so many other different issues. You had as tags on your website: “sharing” but you also had “different spaces”. One of the things that struck me the most when I was watching the videos and your descriptions of the games was the way electricity can create a space where people come together and interact more. For instance, the project in the student quarters where all these families were connecting is a very beautiful and simple way to trouble different notions of community and to create something new.

SA: You said it just like I was thinking about it. But we are also looking hard a “interactive” art and trying to unpeel notions and theories of relational arts and dialogical arts, community art –participatory art is the new buzzword again. We want to look at these things as critically and as meaningfully as one can. Look at the public history of technology and leak out from the holes that remain open. There are tags like “sharing”, “gift”, “distance”, “switch” –kinds of economy or currency that one can imagine. While these might be conceptual ideas, once they play out in a physical context or place, there are also all sorts of embedded politics there that we want to shift or temporarily hijack. In many ways, these works state possible technologically reorganised futures. The essential free soul or tactical heart behind it is integral to how we see things and what we do.

MB: You just used the term “participatory art” and you said it has a new popularity. Could you say something about how you envision concretely these projects? Do you feel that the conception of the project itself is a participatory engagement? Who is the audience that you imagine directing those participatory actions to or with, and what kinds of communities are you participating with?

SA: Participatory… that hype around web 2.0! I would not bandy that word around too much. It sometimes has too happy a veneer of sharing and democracy around it that often does not exist. In my own work, the “conception” has not been participatory in that sense at all. Of course the projects themselves are about the involvement, co-operation of a number of people.

In Rustle TV, one of my earlier works, the idea was to flip or turn the usual way of video production or filmmaking on its head. The participation and collaboration involved the entire market but the intent was laid open to the students and in the manifesto to the market: “This is your channel, it is the channel of the people of the market for the people of the market – but it is by the crew that is going to work their asses off and produce the content for you as per your desires”. So participation was very much key, conceptually the site of the market was the public realm, its people were the audience and performers who determined the content and in turn received what the students gave them by way of their performance.

With KhirkeeYaan I wanted to push that envelope and explore how autonomous this “production” could get for the people that were participating in the creating and receiving. Could the usual bunch of people who produce that content – me or the camera person or the editor, the DIY– be thrown out of the equation, and could that interaction belong to the eight, ten, twenty, forty people who are on that screen at that point? The screen comprised of a grid of four frames in different places that were networked and fed-back to each other in real time. These conversations were generated in distinct spaces all within a radius of 200 metres. Participants were performers, audiences, subjects,
witnesses etc. at the same time. So, yes participation is something that I think of from concept. Filmmaking is a collaborative process, but the nature of the normal structure of how media is produced, which is interpreted by the few people doing it on behalf of many and so on is questioned.

And on-site, what works for me is a very careful but organic calibration of the power structures and dynamics of other forces at play. With Rustle TV I was to conduct a workshop for students and this was part of their New Media semester called “Force” at Srishti School of Art Design and Technology. I knew it was a private arts school and that there would be ten, fifteen students who would be extremely privileged, not just in terms of their demographics or background, but also by being in this wonderful school with much access. The idea was to make a pedagogical intervention right there. They would have to learn and experience all sorts of things “in the field”. At the time of conception, I did not know the students or the people of market. I had no relationship with them. I was just imagining a space where little or no media existed, especially electronic media. KhirkeeYaan was done during an artist residency at Khoj in New Delhi where I was invited to work within in Khirkee Extension, a fragmented urban village, the neighbourhood where their studios were located, a place I had not been to ever before. Khirkee means window in Hindi, Khirkeeyaan is the plural, Yaan means vehicle. All those live episodes were generated after relationships and micro-contracts were forged in the course of a couple of days with people offering TVs, electricity, their property and participation. The stories evolved with the people who were engaging in conversation and performance via this transparent act of media production. The audience was determined by the site(s), and what they were seeing and hearing was performed by this ‘televisation’. It was a complex mix of people residing in this neighbourhood, about the length of a kilometer, and each episode represented distinct linguistic, regional and sociopolitical states.

World Information City TV was a little different. I was thinking, “Alright, here’s the alternative conference on Information Politics that’s going to happen in Bangalore, the Silicon Valley of the East, the IT capital of India. Naturally, it’s the ‘in’ venue for an international conference such as World Information.” There was Net-base/t-01 from Vienna, Sarai from Delhi, Waag from Amsterdam and Alternative Law Forum from
Bangalore. These were some of the players organizing the conference. At the outset, the project was publicly defined as an “intervention” into the conference itself. It pushed outwards from this conference, its themes and participants, and channelled information to a completely different, vernacular and wider audience, who in various ways were the empirical “subjects” of many a conference themes: intellectual property, closure, regulation, access, piracy, grey markets, cinema, media. WI C TV aired to about 3500 homes in Shivaji Nagar on their “illegal” channel that was hugely popular as it showed the latest Tamil and Bollywood flicks soon after release. They were our audience, and the programming revolved around their neighbourhood: its histories, trade and services, people, places and practices –and the Info-politics discussed at the conference, without representing the talks.

Unlike Rustle and KhirkeeYaan, here our total viewers were invisible, imagined watching a range of local content about their city, communities, neighbourhood and world in their homes. Yet, this local terrestrial, literally roof-to-roof, window-to-window network of cables through which they receive all other satellite channels for once reported from the “ground”. Our connection with Lokesh, the cable operator, had been formed during Rustle TV when he and his colleagues had helped us cable the market. We set up an open studio on the terrace room of ‘Lawyers Collective” an NGO that happened to be located in the centre of our ambit. A number of films were generated in the ‘chaorganization’ of the ten days that followed, made by a voluntary crew of rookies, film students, tactical media jammers and practitioners. Ironically, WI C TV was part of World Information City, an ‘art exhibition’, curated by a group of lawyers and artists.

MB: You are talking about the importance of process or medium, I hear that coming across more strongly than concerns about content or message. I wonder if you might want to say something about that.

SA: The process or the medium are the concerns about content or message. The medium alone is not the message, and the form-content tension needs to confront itself. Process, tactics, strategies, even rules are explored, emphasized. So, while the films that aired in the market on Rustle TV were made by students, most of whom had never held a video camera before, there were rules of engagement: the few who had video skills were encouraged to flip the screen outwards, “mirror” the view –so that the “viewfinder” was no longer their privilege but the subject’s as well. The students had to “perform” in the service of the market, their “market research” involved speaking to vendors in every stall. Their political naivety was bombarded by much sensory information. Indeed, in the early days of the project, emotions and zeal led some students to believe they could solve a lot of “problems” of the market. Quickly, –it was not called Rustle TV just for fun– running along the timeline of production, their attention was shifted to their experience and the footage they had generated, which they had to confront for creating a whole range of programming. People had sung songs, recited prose and poetry, bought tapes with their favourite songs and danced in the aisles, in the aquarium, in the open courtyards. Movie scenes were re-enacted, talents and skills displayed. A range of “serialised” programming was generated and it included, apart from remixed music videos, film spoofs, talent and comedy shows, short features and portraitures about the old folk, the young, the women, the kids who worked in the market, time-lapsed shorts about the 24-hour cycle of the
market and its environs, photo essays, promos, signature tunes and animations in more than four languages. Interestingly, no adverting was generated even though this service was available and stated in the “manifesto” stuck on all the notice boards and gates of the market. When the channel went on air inside the market, exactly 15 days into the project, we included live events, quiz shows, checkers tournaments, open forums, open stage and even ‘tele-jammed’ between cricket and pirate cinema. There was festivity, serendipity  irreverence and joy in the market –at least this content did something for all us involved. Video became the site, place became the media for a feedback mechanism of shared memories and experiences. I would also like to believe that it was a fruitful case of radical pedagogy for the students, as was WI C TV.

Khirkeeyaan’s process was more subjective. While the “system” allowed for real time collaborative conversation that was happening in “local” time –the episodes themselves simulated and represented a range of contexts: labour, urban migration, caste politics, gender bias, communal anger, the violent re-development of “New’” Delhi. In episode one, we just wanted to take the device to the street and see what would happen. It was instantly claimed by the children of the 4 streets it connected together. Within a minute they transformed this four-way network it into their own Indian Idol talent show. We connected the homes of four women from Nepal, some of whom were very recent immigrants, living close by but not in a “community”. For over 2 hours they chatted with each other in their native language, exchanged personal narratives and journeys, wisdom and warmth. In one episode we networked labour under four distinct basement sweatshop owners for an entire 8-hour shif  –quite ironical, since we used surveillance gear. A leather works unit, two hand embroidery units and one tailoring unit worked the drudgery
away with some passive play. A polyglot network, common hometowns, districts and languages were discovered, friendships were forged with promises to meet outside-in person, barters and exchanges were struck, music and cricket scores were piped from different locations.

Here is a sampling of the films made and aired by our motley crew during WI C TV:  thirty minute film that personalizes Elgin Cinema, its loyal workers and clients. This is Bangalore’s oldest cinema house, (and possibly India’s oldest –more than a 100 years old), now run-down, with the cheapest ticket prices in the world, a Shivaji Nagar icon - with its re-runs and B-grade Hindi and Tamil cinema, a dark cool escape for menfolk who throng here after a hard shifts work. There was a film about the old car junk market, another looking at the demolition of old markets to make way for malls. Then a true story about of how one of our crewmembers broke his camera and got it repaired for euro 3.33
in thirty minutes despite the Canon authorized service centre telling them it will take a week just for the estimate. A side-ways look at the digital ecology of the area, IP and piracy featuring many interviews including a strong case in support of piracy primer in Hindi by legal theorist Lawrence Liang. We learned of a local Urdu channel called Suroor TV, (pleasure TV) that a young entrepreneur had tried to run from his family home. To air to Shivaji Nagar residents, his linguistic target audience, he had negotiated a set of complicated hurdles that revealed the messy control wars and misplaced laws from top to bottom. His channel could not survive and had to shut down despite being extremely popular. We shot an uncensored talk show in their studio room, featuring local cable operators and the Suroor TV crew in conversation with a panel of conference speakers whom we invited as “guests”. Of course the content is important, but this is practice and not theory.

MB: I wonder if you would want to speak a little bit about the different kinds of access to technology in the areas you have been working with. Who has access, what are the important questions around access, to you?

SA: Even the poorest slum has TV. And that is the first device that everybody has. It is not even radio, I think I can fully say it is TV. This is an access point for me. It is a largely uncontested piece of hardware, with relatively open standards built into the system. Inside Russell Market only one TV with cable existed, though most vendors had TVs at home. For Rustle TV, we rented out a dozen TV sets at three dollars each and cabled them to receive the feed from our studio desk upstairs. In Khirkee, most shops and homes including the small tenements and squats for migrant labour had TVs. In case we needed some, we rented them from the half a dozen shops in the lane, which assemble and sell their ‘own’ TV sets –a tube, a tuner kit and a chassis with some obscure brand. The interface device for KhirkeeYaan was connected using the cheapest consumer level CCTV and CATV equipment: Taiwanese surveillance cameras, a generic Chinese quad splitter, locally manufactured RF modulator, audio mixer and meters of hardy coaxial cables that I bought from Mumbai’s electronics market. None of these places had a
density of computers or distributed internet penetration.

WI C TV’s entire cable infrastructure already existed, we collaborated with the cable operator. He had offered to air our programming on his network: “local programming, everyone will watch.” These interventions claimed and tweaked the social understanding and acceptance of TV as a way of life. Most of my works are situated in places where almost no local or autonomous media exists.

There are many questions around access, and importantly around access to systems of technology. Where there is an even field access to ICTs, like for example internet and wireless routers in Bandra where I live, we are working to harvest these resources through participation and sharing. We want to create a mesh network and community wireless intranet that through wider collaboration and support would spread citywide, become an “offline”, maybe even legal local “internet”.

If we manage to tactically posit it and skirt around the laws. Software, knowledge and media repositories, open and closed, black, white and grey could be claimed and shared, media could also be very localized.

With Recurrencies, the intent is to look hard at technological commodities, use and imagine differently organized states, while looking to the past and future. Bombay City has been the essential modernist example of India in the west and nationally. This modernity in the real-time global world is getting closed in seemingly one-way loops, and this refers to the mass culture of consumption and worldview down here that
systemically mimics its western democratic counterparts. I am more interested in the heterogeneous urban spaces, where there are diverse and hydra-headed ways in which small economies function. There is an inherent “squatting” or hacker intent for survival and function, whether they are on the edge of grey or downright illegal.

I find the flow of information in these places can be extremely interesting, and not just because I like to romanticize them, but because that is where I see freedom –the future and potential for “alterations” and practices that we could even be aware of but cynical or distanced from in our cloning, liberalized times. In fact, unlike the west we are not such a regulated information society –as yet. There are a lot of grey practices that can happen, do happen and function even as new internal laws are being formed. With our socialist democratic modernity past and the privatized and transnational present, it is fair to worry about how closed and repressive the State will become, is becoming already.

AR: I was wondering about two things. What is the reception of your work in India, because, in a way, it seems to be very original. Do you ever hear the criticism that your work is too short-lived, that it does not have an effect, or that your interventions do not necessarily leave any structures for people? Or, some people may overlook that you are concentrating on the process more than creating content, and what kind of effects these processes have? So, I was wondering what people think about your work and how useful they think it is, and how useful you think it is.

SA: The second question first. A lot of projects by way of process have exposed the “under-use” of existing infrastructure or displayed quite transparently the potential for newer network and communication zones. And they have done this by small examples, locally on the ground in a short and economical period of time, ironically as workshops or art events, with negligible budgets. Of course, there will always be that criticism of these being temporary and short lived, or not permanently resulting in shifts, especially when seen as tactical media. Our tactics are informed by a host of practices, and beyond critical self-awareness and clarity of practice, I am looking hard for some contextual peer
review here. Yet, I have to say, media alone is never going to bring about shifts in power. It can never fundamentally, unless it is a piece of video that is clinching evidence in court or something. Seizing and producing temporary shifts in power motivates my individual practice. I guess I am hardwired that way.

With Recurrencies however, we are looking purely at the “structures” that make up our electric realm. So far, the projects have sought to articulate practical, tactical, and equitable and even spectacular “usable” things. Since this is a long-term project, where we are also building relationships with the people in the neighbourhood, we are also looking at alternative community infrastructures that could result. It is natural to think of how to make these circuits more meaningful, sustainable and instrumental to “changes”.

And that said, I do have a cynicism in the permanent thing, because the permanent thing needs to follow the currency of commerce or social capital, and that for me brings back into focus what we talked about earlier: a power dynamic. If I had to run things permanently, it would not be autonomous, it would be autocratic. It would change the nature of things and it would happen to the best of people, unless there are tactical and colluded collaborative ways something can happen.

I live very close to the art world and the film world, just by virtue of living in Bombay, and ironically my work has gained some recognition as art practice, and not as filmmaking. But what I feel I would really like is peer recognition and peer interaction in more fearless and collaborative ways, so that there is give and take and urgent critique.

Ashok [Sukumaran] and I are looking at the new art boom here, artists using new media technologies in galleries, and we just get bored with it because one has seen enough of this in the last decade anyway. To suddenly encounter derivations of it in India in the midst of a huge art market hype and boom –it is a serious boom– is such a lost cause that its not even worth contesting. Our peers will not be found there. So, I am not sure how people see us, because we have not been able to belong somewhere entirely. Definitely we are art practitioners and that is what we will always do. For the time being, art is what legitimizes what we do, and I like that. I like the fact that I can just walk down the street and say well, it is an art project so we are taking electricity from the park, and for a while nobody knows what to say. So, art and even pedagogy allows you to justify doing things.

We find ourselves working more and more, with people who are advocating alternative technologies like wireless, micro-FM, FLOSS. People who are doing very interesting research on Knowledge and Culture Commons, on intellectual property law, and issues of piracy. Ashok and I are committed to set up a kind of base for what we call CAMP: Critical Art and Media Practices. As of now, there is no money to back this, there is no immediate, organized framework, but I believe it will change.

India is no longer a developing country, we are “second world” now. The big boosterist monster is trampling over the real estate in the city, crushing, uprooting people and livelihoods, countering this vision of a global city. It is also democracy boom-time, the middle class and intelligentsia think they have rights they can claim and exercise. Everybody is talking that rights-based discourse, it was nauseating to see the mass of NGOs’ eloquence in every tent at the World Social Forum. There is millions for whom there is no fundamental concept of a right, be it labour, livelihood, housing, land. We are all riding this wave that India is soon going to become the richest country in the world, never mind the fact that 600 million people will not be rich, but dare you say anything negative at this moment. It is such a gung-ho time. With Web 2.0 and YouTube and social networking, young people are back in start up mode, in venture mode.

MB: Do you have any thoughts about the buzz around the “democratization” of media that is surrounding formats like YouTube? You just mentioned something about that buzz. Do you have thoughts about it?

SA: On the face of it, it is great, why should I complain? In much the same way I would not complain about my two GB storage on my Gmail account. I am just hoping and looking for slightly better bandwidth so that I can download more videos. But I am not buying the “you’re the broadcast yourself generation” and all of that. And on very basic levels: YouTube is Google, Murdoch is MySpace, eyeballs mean money. You know, Creative Commons India launched a couple of weeks ago, and it was almost eerie. You had this guy Joichi Ito who is a venture capitalist, who runs the World of Warcraft Guild, and is the head of Creative Commons worldwide –Lessig is the other head. Ito is more the operating head and he gave his spiel about buzz marketing, how free downloads and Pepsi and Ipods can work together. There is this idea that free culture will happen if we build it. So, “creativity builds on the past”, but the past starts on the day that free culture thinks it starts, or a Creative Commons license legitimizes its presence.

I am sure if I lived in America or in Europe I would be endorsing CC and licensing my own work and my own films, but living here in India I could never take a very critical and vocal stand against piracy, quite the contrary. I mean that is access here. It might come from software or movie piracy but for me it is the best, cheapest, most localized, fastest super-efficient distribution of information. If anything, I have a little cynicism about many things “democratic” at the moment.

MB: To conclude, do you want to say something about what your ideal form of dissemination and distribution would look like, imagining you had no issues with resources? What would your more ideal form of dissemination and distribution be?

SA: Fiction film. Really, it does not get more ideal than that, and in all forms of distribution, from being aired on TV and cinemas, to it being streamed and pirated on YouTube in ten-minute segments, torrented, sold in black, whatever. You know, there is just beauty and joy in telling happy stories about people. But it is not all like that, so one must continue doing what we do. Did I answer that, or did you want me to give more a serious answer?

i www.chitrakarkhana.net, www.recurrencies.ne t, http://worldinformation.org/wio/program/bangalore
ii http://www.critical-art.net/books/ted/

A Brief History of Palestinian Cinema

July 1st, 2008
 
 
 
 

Visiting artist Pedro Ortuño has been researching Palestinian filmmakers in the UK, looking at the development of Palestinian filmmaking in parallel with its history and current conflicts.

A Brief History of Palestinian Cinema
Originally published on This Week in Palestine, 5th Feb 2008
By Khaled Elayyan

Political events in the Middle East, and especially in Palestine, have had a great influence on Palestinian cinema. Colonialism has always been a major obstacle that has hindered the natural development of the various sectors within Palestinian society. The Nakba in 1948, the Naksa in 1967, and the Beirut War in 1982, were dramatic events that augmented instability in Palestine and created a feeling of uncertainty among its indigenous people. Nevertheless, the Palestinian cinema managed to keep itself immune from all external obnoxious influences and to survive despite all odds. Indeed, and in spite of the lack of cinema-industry fundamentals in Palestine, the international and local scenes are witnessing a proliferation of Palestinian filmmakers and films.

The roots of Palestinian film production can be traced back to the year 1935. The first short documentary, which focused on the visit of King Suud Ben Abdel Aziz to Palestine and his travels between the cities of Jerusalem and Jaffa, was produced by Ibrahim Sarhan. Later, Sarhan also produced two other films, one was a feature called Dreams Come True, and the other was a documentary about Ahmad Hilmi Pasha, a member of the Higher Arab Commission. In 1945, Palestine Studio was established and launched its career with a feature film titled On the Night of the Feast.

In the mid-1950s, Mohammad Saleh al-Kayyali left his homeland, Palestine, and went to Italy where he studied cinematic art and film direction. However, he opted to live in Egypt after graduation.

Cinema in Palestine failed to become a socio-cultural phenomenon due to the prevalent social traditions at that time. In addition, the British Mandate censored the copying and screening of films that contained violence or were thought to contain any form of incitement. Thus the production of films was an individual endeavour that soon vanished because of the lack of basic, fundamental components of cinema production. Moreover, the British Mandate and the political situation in Palestine after the 1948 Nakba occasioned a total social mishmash and political mayhem.

In 1948, the northern part of Palestine was occupied by Israel, and thousands of Palestinian civilians were dispossessed and displaced. A considerable number of them fell under Israeli military hegemony; others became part of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan; while others established direct relations with Egypt. In addition, thousands of them became refugees in neighbouring Arab countries. Consequently, Palestinian identity was fragmented. Between the years 1948 and 1967, Palestinian filmmakers were unable to produce films due to the onerous political situation in which they were living. In fact, the Palestinian people became subordinates and marginalized subjects in alien countries.

In contrast, the Arab cinema in general managed to produce several films that addressed the Palestinian cause. But those films merely reflected the vision of the official political regimes and were committed to their political agendas. The Arab political system in the mid-1950s and 60s evaded the issue of the Nakba and its causes. Likewise, it steered clear of the Arab masses and sidestepped any public agitation.

Following the revolution on July 23, 1952 in Egypt, films about the Palestinian cause were produced as part of the national movement. Most films, however, were made by Egyptian producers who gave priority to and sought to highlight the Palestinian dilemma. At that time, the Palestinian director Mohammad Saleh al-Kayyali, who was living in Egypt, produced a number of documentaries.

As a result of the June 1967 War and the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, the Palestinian people living in Gaza, Israel, and the West Bank re-established connections and communication among themselves after nineteen years of total segregation. In fact, a common feature of the Israeli occupation was that it brought back together all Palestinians and reinforced their national identity. Henceforward the Palestinians shouldered the responsibility of preserving their national identity and initiating liberation activities.

Palestinian cinema prospered in singular and unusual circumstances. Photographer Salafa Mirsal formed her first photography club after graduating from the Higher Cinema School in Cairo. She photographed and displayed snapshots of Palestinian life and Palestinian martyrs and, as a result, there arose the need to create an archive that documented the Palestinian struggle. Palestine Film Unit was thus established and the first Palestinian documentary, No to a Peaceful Solution, was produced in 1968 by Mustafa Abu Ali, who was considered one of the founders of Palestinian revolutionary cinema. Following the exodus of Palestinian revolutionaries from Jordan to Lebanon, the PLO and its factions set up cinema departments in Lebanon, including Media and Culture Department, Samed Institute for Cinema Production, PFLP Art Commission, and PDFLP Cinema and Photography. These departments produced fifty-nine documentaries and one feature film called Return to Haifa produced by the Iraqi director Kassem Hawal.

During that period Palestinian cinema played a major role in disseminating knowledge about the Palestinian cause and the struggle against the Israeli occupation. In fact, the aim of Palestinian cinema was to expose the suffering of the Palestinian people and their resistance. According to the Lebanese film director Jean Chamoun, Palestinian cinema at that time “responded to and fulfilled a temporary political need without stressing the cultural and historical dimensions that related to the existence of a people. The accumulation of events drowned the Palestinian cinema in the whirlpool of current events.”

Irrespective of the artistic level of these films, which were actually produced in dire conditions and employed only basic technical equipment, their value was immense since they documented important historical information about the Palestinian cause. Researcher and film critic Adnan Madanat noted, “We could say that these films have contributed, through international film festivals and Palestinian film festivals and screenings organized by international solidarity movements, to communicating and conveying the image of the Palestinian people, even though partially, to international public opinion.”

Palestinian film production and Palestinian film institutions and departments continued to work until 1982 when Palestinian revolutionaries were forced out of Lebanon. Palestinian filmmakers, producers, and directors were scattered in different parts of the world. Gradually, Palestinian cinema receded.

The June 1967 War led as well to the emergence of new cinema trends in the Arab world. Features addressing the Palestinian cause were produced by the private and public sectors, expressing their rejection of defeat. In Egypt, for example, film directors Ali Abdel-Khaleq, Youssef Shahin, and Tawfiq Saleh produced several films, such as Song on the Passageway and The Bird, in support of and solidarity with the Palestinian people. In addition, international filmmakers such as Jean-Luc Godard and Costa Gavras produced films that showed empathy with the predicament of Palestinians.

At the end of the 1970s, more filmmakers appeared in Palestine especially when resistance was carried to the occupied territories. These professionals produced documentaries that contributed to the spread of cinema culture among Palestinians.

The 1990s were years of full growth for Palestinian cinema, as the Syrian director Bashar Ibrahim has noted. Several Palestinian films were screened in Arab and international film festivals. Today, there is a hectic and lively cinema movement especially among the young generation.

However, Palestinian cinema still depends on individual experience in spite of the existence of a number of institutions that contribute to this vital sector. In order for Palestinian cinema to continue to grow, it needs adequate funding, screening halls, advanced equipment, and human resources.

References:
1. Hassan al-Odat, The Cinema and the Palestinian Cause. Dar al-Sawar: Acre, 1989.
2. Adnan Madanat, “Palestinian Cinema,” Encyclopedia Palestine, Vol. II.
3. Bashar Ibrahim, The Palestinian Cinema in the Twentieth Century. Syrian Education Ministry - Public Cinema Institution.

Khaled Elayyan is an artist and choreographer who currently works at Al Kasaba Theatre and Cinematheque in Ramallah.

Common: a linguistic history

June 30th, 2008

Keywords A Vocabulary of Culture and Society is Raymond Williams’ unique study of 131 English words with highly loaded meanings. Neither purely an etymology nor a glossary, the book instead attempts to track the changing social and political usages of the words that have moulded contemporary and historical thought. The words include ‘Democracy’; ‘Genius’; ‘Family’; ‘Anarchism’; and ‘Modern’. Here,  we re-publish Williams’ take on the word ‘Common’. Illustrations here come from a google image search of the same word.

Common has an extraordinary range of meaning in English, and several of its particular meanings are inseparable from a still active social history. The rw [1] is communis, L [2], which has been derived, alternatively, from com-, L - together and munis, L - under obligation, and from com- and unus, L - one. In early uses these senses can be seen to merge: common to a community (from C14 an organised body of people), to a specific group, or to the generality of mankind. There are distinctions in these uses, but also considerable and persistent overlaps. What is then interesting is the very early use of common as an adjective and noun of social division; common, the common, and commons, as contrasted with lords and nobility. The tension of these two senses has been persistent. Common can indicate a whole group of interest or a large specific and subordinate group. (Cf Elyot’s protest (Governor, 1, i; 1531) against commune weale, later commonwealth: ‘There may appere lyke diversitie to be in Englisshe between a publike weale and a commune weale, as shulde be in Latin, between Res publica & res plebeia.’)

hip hop artist Common
hip hop star Common

The same tension is apparent even in applications of the sense of a whole group: that is, of generality. Common can be used to affirm something shared or to describe something ordinary (itself ambivalent, related to order as series or sequence, hence ordinary - in the usual course of things, but also to order as rank, social and military, hence ordinary - of an undistinguished kind); or again, in one kind of use, to describe something low or vulgar (which has specialised in this sense from a comparable origin, vulgus, L - the common people). It is difficult to date the derogatory sense of common. In feudal society the attribution was systematic and carried few if any additional overtones. It is significant that members of the Parliamentary army in the Civil War of mC17[3] refused to be called common soldiers and insisted on private soldiers. This must indicate an existing and significant derogatory sense of common, though it is interesting that this same army were fighting for the commons and went on to establish a commonwealth. The alternative they chose is remarkable, since it asserted, in the true spirit of their revolution, that they were their own men. There is a great deal of social history in this transfer across the range of ordinary description from common to private: in a way the transposition of hitherto opposed meanings, becoming private soldiers in a common cause. In succeeding British armies, private has been deprived of this significance and reduced to a technical term for for those of lowest rank.

The common wombat
the common wombat

It is extremely difficult, from lC16 on, to distinguish relatively neutral uses of common, as in common ware, from more conscious and yet vaguer uses to mean vulgar, unrefined and eventually low-class. Certainly the clear derogatory use seems to increase from eC19, in a period of more conscious and yet less specific class-distinction (cf. CLASS [4]). By lC19 ‘her speech was very common‘ has an unmistakeable ring, and this use has persisted over a wide range of behaviour. Meanwhile other senses, both neutral and positive, are also in general use. People, sometimes the same people, say ‘it’s common to eat ice-cream in the street’ (and indeed it is becoming common in another sense); but also ‘it’s common to speak of the need for a common effort’ (which may indeed be difficult to get if many of the people needed to make it are seen as common).

Finchley Common in the 18th C
Finchley Common in the 18thC.

notes
1 - rw= root word
2 - L= Latin
3 - here the abbreviation system of C=century and l, m, and e is in use which denote late, middle and early, followed by the number.
4 - Class has a very long analysis on pp60-69.

a VI form common room
A VI form common room

The Enclosures - In Our Time, Radio 4, 1 May 08

June 14th, 2008
This programme was broadcast on Thursday 1 May 2008 on Melvyn Bragg’s In Our Time on BBC Radio 4. The following information is taken from that link.

 

Timber agricultural fence

Listen to this programme in full
THE ENCLOSURESFind out more about this subject by using BBC’s research page
In the early 19th century, the Northamptonshire poet John Clare took a good look at the countryside and didn’t like what he saw. He wrote:“Fence meeting fence in owners little bounds
Of field and meadow, large as garden-grounds,
In little parcels little minds to please,
With men and flocks imprisoned, ill at ease.”
He was referring to the effects of the Enclosures – literally the fencing in of land to stop others from using it. This apparently simple act has been hugely controversial. For some Enclosure underpinned the economic and agricultural development of Modern Britain. For others it was an act of theft – the turning of common land into private property that impoverished the many for the sake of the few.But what really happened during the era of 18th and 19th century enclosures? Who gained, who lost and what role did Enclosures play in the agricultural and industrial transformation of this country?

Contributors

Rosemary Sweet, Director of the Centre for Urban History at the University of Leicester

Murray Pittock, Bradley Professor of English Literature at the University of Glasgow

Mark Overton, Professor of Economic and Social History at the University of Exeter

 

Audience reactions to this edition

mark- enclosure
It would have been interesting to briefly contrast the English experience with the French, where the open field system, subsistence agriculture, and healthy small peasant land holdings persisted into the 20th century. Productivity of English farms was clearly far higher than in France post enclosure, but perhaps the French system allowed a relatively vital and diverse local artisanal agriculture to survive and develop in the countryside while the English rural economy became increasingly a mixture of manorial farms and playgrounds for the rich?

William Brown, on “Enclosures”
This was an excellent program, and a nicely balanced look at a sometimes very heated subject (even among academics). If I could greedily wish for more, it would have been to expand the subject outside of the period of Parliamentary Enclosures to discuss earlier enclosures, particularly as it has been estimated (by Professor Overton, and others) that just about as high a proportion of land in England was enclosed in the seventeenth century as in both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. I, too, would like to know more about enclosure by agreement, and the structures by which they were confirmed and reinforced. Were the central courts, such as that of the Chancery or the Exchequer used?

Christopher Draper, “Enclosures”
As the author of, “Llandudno Before the Hotels” I think today’s otherwise excellent discussion overlooked examples where Parliament promoted enclosure schemes designed to achieve the exact opposite of the scheme’s professed rationale of increasing agricultural production. Llandudno’s 1843 Enclosure Act, for exanple, was progressed through Parliament by Edward Mostyn Lloyd Mostyn M.P. whose family consequently acquired freehold rights over much of the old village of Llandudno. Smallholders were then evicted, their fields paved over and an ancient agricultural settlement transformed into a fashionable bathing resort. A century and a half later Mostyn Estates still own and control most of our town. Fortunately nowadays we can we can rely on our Parliament to never again enact the transfer of resources away from the poor to enrich better off members of society!

Peter Household - Enclosure Acts
I hoped Melvyn would press for a fuller reply to his question as to why Acts of Parliament were felt to be necessary in the 18th century. Rosemary Sweet explained that they were petitioned for by landowners, as legal authority was required. But why had this not been felt to be an issue with previous enclosures? I think Rosemary said that in earlier centuries enclosure was achieved by agreement with the peasantry, but this sounds implausible to me, therefore I fear I misheard. Can anyone shed light? And what about the dissolution of the monasteries? Did this not have a part to play in the story?

Jane - The Enclosures
George Bernard Shaw once said something on the lines of “reasonable people accept life the way it, unreasonable people do not accept life the way it is. Therefore all change is brought about by unreasonable people”. There are two sides to the unreasonable sword. Our greatest thinkers are often considered unreasonable people in their anachronistic perspectives. Larger in number are those who dominate and distort life for others. The Enclosures was another story of the unreasonable use of power and ‘creaming off the top’ and although it wasn’t totally disastrous in its effect it wasn’t exactly great. Knowing what being human is about is a bit of a ‘piece of string’ situation and if we are evolving, the most important thing about history is that we learn from it.Our self-made history is one of domination and much suffering which has presently culminated in (amongst other things) a growingly capitalist world that continues to reduce and restrict the lives of most people. The counter argument simply won’t do any more. Much of the media are hugely complicit in this and they’re doing quite nicely out of it too. If we take an Emperor’s New clothes perspective on capitalism, whose beginnings were mooted at this morning, surely we can see that it is a catastrophe for the majority of people. A few do well, granted, but not enough. Also,whatever sits on the back of capitalism is corrupted by it - look at our own country and it’s evident at every turn. When our health care is about money more than people - the finest modalities are often at best overlooked and at worst deliberately overridden. (Post office, water, trains etc.) As humans we are born into a strange situation of inner and outer realities - both of which are incredibly tortuous as well as vivid in nature and both of which are, fundamentally, a complete mystery. All we can do is take up the situation and get on with it in our own way. I was brought up to be egalitarian in my outlook and it stays with me. On this earth I find the the unclear thinking with its consequences quite unbelievable but thinking is only part of our function. Recently, whilst pondering the nature of conditioning - (from atavism through to recent) and questioning good and cruel tendencies in myself I put on the second movement of Mozart’s 23rd piano concerto and in my imagination conjured up pictures of grief and suffering in as many countries as I could think of (a bit like they do in films). My tears flowed readily and I found my compassion to be fundamentally present. I don’t know unequivocally how we are to measure ourselves or how we can change things when globalization and centralization have disenfranchised us so profoundly and compassion is so often relegated to picking up the pieces which a wiser world would have avoided. Imagine, as well as you can, the entire planet at this minute sitting on it’s little known but seemingly difficult history and maybe enjoy the fact that the programme we listened to this morning is like a beacon - a clue. Its power is of a different nature. Also, why is it that the rich are remembered for philanthropy but rarely for their wealth much as it is prized in the moment.Posterity is often, perhaps, another clue to a truer picture. So - to the ‘In Our Time’ team - thank you, once again, in our troubled times, for that beacon.

Christopher Hall - Enclosures
I fully expected this to be quoted:’The law locks up the man or womanWho steals the goose from off the common;But lets the greater villain looseWho steals the common from the goose.’

John Calton: enclosures
Excellent discussion of a very complex topic. Many thanks, not least for the wry(rye?) and, some might argue sly, apportioning of examples, ditching (Dissing?) of some iconic reputations and fielding of expertise.To take my immediate and local context, I am constantly fascinated by claims that the Finnish word ‘kylä’ bears only a tangential relationship to the word ‘village’, and the programme helped shed (oops, sorry) some light on that lexical anomaly. Will recommend the programme to students of British cultural studies with enthusiasm, and meanwhile go out and pick up more litter from the ditches with renewed interest and commitment. Happy Labour/May Day (in Finnish: ‘Hauskaa Vappua!’)Best wishes,John Caltonlecturer in EnglishUniversity of Helsinki

davidmurray-Bragg and class
Bragg mentioned E P Thompson’s best-known work as ‘The Making of the English Working Classes’- in fact it was ‘The Making of the English Working Class’. Bragg may find it hard to conceive that someone taken seriously on his programme should advance any kind of marxist view, rather than a banal social-stratificationist one, but Thompson did, of a kind.

Big trouble in little Lacoste as locals fight Pierre Cardin’s ‘St Tropez of culture’ plan

June 12th, 2008

Gail Pickering’s exhibition at Gasworks includes the work Hungary! and Other Economies (2006), shot in the grounds of the castle of the Marquis de Sade, near the French village of Lacoste. The building is now in the ownership of fashion designer Pierre Cardin, who has extensively restored the building. Pickering’s work records a performance whose references make apparent the various layers of cultural histories present in a single space. The article below, found in the Guardian of 7 June 2008, demonstrates Lacoste’s ongoing status as a ‘cultural hotspot’ and highlights a recent controversy:

 

Big trouble in little Lacoste as locals fight Pierre Cardin’s ‘St Tropez of culture’ plan

Designer provokes ire of villagers after calling them unintelligent bumpkins
Angelique Chrisafis

Perched on a hill overlooking a valley of cherry trees and vines, the tiny medieval village of Lacoste is a fantasy of tranquil, peasant life. Peter Mayle wrote his bestselling A Year in Provence from a ramshackle house nearby; Tom Stoppard settled in a cottage near the belfry; and John Malkovich likes to practise his French at local markets. Only the imposing, half-ruined castle that once belonged to the Marquis de Sade hints at a darker truth of the feudal rulers who for centuries lorded it over the villagers in this south-eastern corner of France.

But de Sade’s chateau, said to have inspired the gothic settings for his novels of sexual perversion, is at the centre of a different outrage: its new, rich owner is accused by villagers of trying to take over as a self-styled feudal lord.

Pierre Cardin, the millionaire Paris fashion designer and businessman who has spent millions restoring the castle, is trying to turn the village into a “St Tropez of culture”. After establishing his own music festival, he has started buying up scores of cottages and buildings in the village of 430 people.

The ageing couturier says he wants to “leave his mark” by turning Lacoste into a refuge for world artists, complete with luxury hotels, a top restaurant, a de Sade cafe and a piano bar. But a growing group of villagers warn that his plans are ruining this Provençal community.

Lacoste, once a Protestant and later a communist stronghold, is no stranger to rebellion. Campaigners have already gone to a tribunal to stop Cardin building a Greek amphitheatre in the local quarry. But the row escalated this week after Cardin insinuated in a TV interview that his village opponents were bumpkins who didn’t understand his great vision. They now call him an egotistical “invader” bent on killing village life.

On the tiny square at the top of winding cobbled streets, 85-year-old Cardin steps out of his black BMW in designer glasses and a tweed waistcoat, on his weekly inspection of his rural empire. Rue de Basse, the tiny, main village street now hosts 12 building sites bearing Cardin’s name. He has bought more than 20 houses and owns almost the whole quaint and winding street. The newspaper shop has his name over the door, he has built two galleries, a boulangerie, a boutique and plans a restaurant and two hotels. He owns two castles, employs dozens of people on his projects, and a van emblazoned with “Pierre Cardin perfumes” can be seen regularly climbing the hill. [more after the image]


“I’m happy here,” he told the Guardian. “I just want to make the village beautiful”. He declines to comment on the outrage caused when he recently likened himself to a “seigneur” and said that while other rich people gamble or collect stamps “I collect houses”.

In the Café de France, a group of angry villagers, including artists and teachers, warned of a “predator”. They said Cardin sometimes paid double the price for old stone buildings, once offering €1m to a couple for their house worth €300,000. “This village is fragile, it has an ageing population, our school has around 30 children; we just want to ensure young couples can afford to live here and keep the place alive,” said Bruno Pierret, a jurist who stood with a group of leftwing candidates on an anti-Pierre Cardin ticket at recent local elections. His group did not get elected but they continue to lobby the mayor to closely monitor Cardin’s moves. At a public meeting this week, more than 20 villagers decided to launch a fresh petition and letter-writing campaign. Eliane Ferres, a retired teacher whose father was the last communist mayor of Lacoste said: “He treats us like “natives” and has a complete disdain for people not of his milieu. He has no right to say he saved the village when in fact he’s sucking out its soul.”

Most approve of Cardin’s much-needed work to restore de Sade’s castle. But the international artists who settled here from the 1950s and 1960s laugh off the idea that Cardin alone is bringing in culture. “Artists and writers have long settled in Lacoste,” said Inge Boesken Kanold, a German painter. Previous residents include Andre Breton and Max Ernst.

Genevieve Recubert, a teacher, said: “I’m scared he will change the face of the village forever.” Yves Ronchi, a local wine-maker, who founded the Association for the Harmonious Development of Lacoste to monitor Cardin’s expansion, warned: “Since the Middle Ages, this has been a feudal place where villagers were not treated as equal; that has produced a local mentality of deference, of bowing down to landowners. That’s what’s happening now.”

One of Cardin’s right-hand men running the Lacoste project said: “He sees himself as a patron, he gives without asking for anything in return. He doesn’t look to buy. People say: ‘Pierre Cardin, I would like to sell my house’. He has brought a dying village back to life.”

Cardin seems hurt by the outrage in Lacoste, but he is also an ageing man in a hurry to realise his dream.

Open Society

May 21st, 2008

Open society

Roly Smith steps back in to the middle ages in the Midlands

 

 

 

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This article appeared in the Guardian on Saturday December 02 2000 . It was last updated at 19:02 on October 02 2006.

Even after several visits, it still comes as a bit of a surprise to happen upon the broad, open fields of Laxton to the east of Ollerton in north Nottinghamshire. All around are the the hawthorn-hedged, tightly-enclosed fields so typical of the Midlands shires, punctuated here and there by copses which often provide the last refuges for wildlife.

But as you climb up from the flood plain of the Trent to reach Laxton, which stands at just under 300ft (90m), it feels as if you have been suddenly transported from the East Midlands to the prairies of East Anglia. Horizons broaden, the hedges disappear and the sky opens up as you step back 1,000 years into a unique little bit of Old England.

Laxton is the only village in England that still practises the open-field system of agriculture, common throughout the country during the middle ages. This amazing survival is thought to be due to the fact that the two major landowners, Earl Manvers and the Earl of Scarborough, could not reach agreement on how and where the enclosures should take place during the early 19th century.

Although some partial enclosure did happen, by the start of the 20th century, Laxton’s importance as a unique historical landscape was recognised, and the emphasis changed to the preservation of the old system, encouraged by the county council and the Countryside Agency.

Laxton, (or Laxintune or Lexington as it has also been known) was already a well-established village by the time of the Norman conquest. Roman remains have been found at Fiddler’s Balk in the West Field, and many of the names still in use, such as toft, flatt, gate and syke, are of Danish origin, showing that Scandinavian invaders also left their mark on this ancient landscape. The name comes from the Anglo-Saxon and means “the settlement of Leaxa’s people”.

In William the Conqueror’s great land register, the Domesday Book of 1086, “Laxintune” is already shown to be a cultivated and populous village, consisting of an adult population of around 35 villiens, bordars and serfs (including, unusually, one female serf or ancilla), supporting a total population of perhaps 100-120 people. The Domesday entry also shows that the people of Laxton were cultivating about 720 acres of arable land, with about 40 acres of pasture for mowing, and woodland providing pannage (acorns and beechmast) for pigs, and for fuel and building timber.

The well-preserved earthworks of the Norman motte and bailey castle on the northern edge of the village date from the late 11th century, and feature an unusual extra cone on the summit of the “motte,” the mound on which the original timber tower was built. It was from here that King John enjoyed many weeks of good hunting in the royal Forest of Sherwood, which was then stocked with herds of deer and wild boar, packs of wolves and possibly outlaws.

The castle proved to be a popular lodge for a succession of medieval monarchs including Henry II and Edward I. It fell into decay in the 14th century, but the Roos family built a three-gabled manor house, now also disappeared, to the south of the site in the 17th century. Today, there are spectacular views from the tree-topped motte across the marching pylons towards the great billowing cauldrons of the power stations of the Trent Valley to the east, and over the village of Laxton and its West Field.

The village’s open-field system was probably already in place by the time of Domesday. Basically, it relies on a three-field rotation system, where in any one year, one field is sown with winter wheat; the second, a spring-sown crop such as barley, and the third is left fallow. All village farmers have the right to use the land in strips or furlongs in the three great open fields of Laxton: the West Field, the Mill Field and the South Field.

Uniquely, Laxton’s open-field system is still administered by the Court Leet, a form of manorial government surviving from medieval times. On Jury Day, usually held at about this time of the year, an inspection is made of the open fields, checking that everything is in order. This is followed a week later by the Court Leet held in the Dovecote Inn, where officials and a new jury are appointed and fines are imposed.

Our walk starts from the village car park, near the visitor centre. Turn left on to the road past the Dovecote Inn, passing the site of the walled pinfold (for impounding stray animals) in Kneesall Road. Bear right at the junction with the Moorhouse Road and, after about 200 yards, turn right by the second wooden footpath sign on to the broad, muddy trackway known as the Langsyke.

This leads up through a gate and an avenue of young beeches into a holloway and out on to Mill Field, the largest of the three great open fields of Laxton. In the summer, if the field is in arable use, you will be able to see different crops growing in the different strips, and there are fine views right back towards the village and the church tower.

Ascend the broad green headland for about 500 yards (550m), towards a prominent interpretive sign from which views extend, on a clear day, as far as the triple towers of Lincoln Cathedral, 17 miles away to the east. Turn sharp right at this junction on to a metalled farm track which leads out to the Ollerton Road. This is crossed and you follow a grassy, often wet holloway, turning right at the junction with another towards the end of the main street of the village, with the church tower ahead.

Just before reaching the street, turn left on to a farm track. After about 150 yards, leave the track, turning left over a stile by a footpath sign partly hidden by the hedge. Cross another stile which leads across the West Field via Hall Lane, a wet, deeply- hedged green track. Follow the lane for about 500 yards, where a gate and sign leads left across a field towards the earthworks of the castle, surrounded by ageing hawthorn trees.

Retrace your steps back to the lane, where you go straight ahead to arrive back into the village nearly opposite the church. The beautiful, mainly 13th-century parish church of St Michael the Archangel had, like the castle, fallen into disuse and “impious neglect” until it was remodelled by Earl Manvers in 1854. Note the grotesque gargoyles on the battlements of the nave, and the remains of a medieval preaching cross in the churchyard.

From here, it is a short walk down the Main Street and back to the Dovecote Inn.

The practicals
The walk is a combination of routes suggested in the Laxton village guide, published by the trustees and obtainable from the visitor centre, and will feature in the forthcoming Walks Through Britain’s History, published by the AA. It is about four miles (6.5km) in length, mainly on field paths and holloway lanes which can be very wet and muddy, especially after rain. The best map covering the area is the Ordnance Survey’s 1:25,000 Explorer No 271, Newark-on-Trent and Retford. Good pub food can be obtained at the Dovecote Inn (01777 871586). The nearest railway station is Mansfield, about five miles away. National rail enquiries 0345 484950. For accommodation, contact the tourist information centre at Sherwood Heath, Ollerton Roundabout (01623 824545).

Laxton

May 21st, 2008

Laxton (part 1)

Published here

St Michael’s Laxton. Previous to restoration.

After passing through Moorhouse, Laxton Fields, where the open-field system of agriculture still survives in a modified form, were traversed in a drenching shower.

This property belongs to Earl Manvers, and at a later period in the day, Mr. W. Stevenson took an opportunity of explaining the leading features of this old communal system of agriculture, which still holds its own in this partially unenclosed lordship. It was explained that the wheat field of this year would be a pulse crop next year, and then lie a year in fallow, in the latter case with the broad headlands of grass to become the com­munal sheep pasture of the lordship by which the land would be again prepared for corn.

There are no hedges, but the “lands” are divided by baulks of unploughed turf. The Enclosure Acts dealt a blow to this open-field system in many places, a system of straggling, scattered holdings being very wanting in economy, and prolific in quarrels among the tenants as to rights of way over the headlands, and between the clean holder and the slovenly holder.

Mr. R. W. Wordsworth, agent to Earl Manvers, has kindly furnished some particulars of the system:—

Laxton open-fields contain roughly 900 acres in all, divided into approximately 1,200 plots. They are cropped in rotation, thus: One field, white straw; one field, pulse or clover; one field, bare fallow. Each of the tenants, of whom there are thirty, has a certain acreage in each field, and most of them small pieces dotted about, so as to give them a bit of each class of soil which the field contains, and there are many. To have one acre in any one part is considered quite a large piece; many do not occupy half that quantity.

There are juries chosen annually to go over each field to see that the commons interspersed in them are not encroached upon, and that no one ploughs nearer the road than he should.

There are many old words in use in the parish in connection with these fields, which no doubt are becoming obsolete, such as “sick” (or syke), “stenting,” &c. The former is a grass baulk, the latter the place where two “lands” abut on each other, and the person who ploughs last turns his plough and horses on the other man’s land, which is already ploughed, much to his detriment. How they all know their proper pieces is a marvel. There is an old saying in Laxton, that if you are first in the field with your harvest cart and last with your muck cart or plough, you are sure to be right. They are a peculiar people. The village is divided by the church into what are known as “up the street” and “down the street,” and these two parts are distinctly antagonistic to each other. The only time they combine is when a stranger ventures to take land in the parish, then they all pick him like a flock of crows.

Laxton Church now came into view, forming a hand­some and conspicuous feature in the landscape. On alighting at the church gates the vicar, the Rev. Christopher B. Collinson, met the party, most of whom at once proceeded up the grassy lane that connects the church with the great Manor site, mound or burh of the lordship, called the “Old Hall Grounds,” the largest earthwork in the county. Here Mr. T. M. Blagg gave a short address on the subject, pointing out the rectangular lines of the first enclosure, in which the soil is intensely black, denoting a long occupation, and the remains of masonry in its banks. From this commanding height the lines of the second or outer court could be traced in the adjoining field, together with a secondary mound not generally noticed by casual visitors. It is possible that the earliest enclosure was Roman; the great burh is Anglo-Saxon, and .the whole was occupied to the close of the middle ages by the chief lords of Laxton, who were the hereditary custodians of the royal forests of Notts. and Derbyshire to the end of the reign of Edward I.

After luncheon at the village hostelry, known as “The Dovecote,” the church was visited, where the vicar, read the following paper:—

There are three subjects of antiquarian interest in Laxton. The Church of St. Michael, the large earthworks, called locally “The Old Hall Grounds,” and the un­enclosed lordship, still cultivated on the “three field” system; the history of these, for many centuries, has been bound up with the great lords of the soil, and offers a fruitful field for the study of mediaeval life.

Ground plan of Laxton church.

Ground plan of Laxton church.

No mention is made of a church at Laxton at the Domesday Survey, but this is not evidence of the non­existence of such a building.

In the south side of the tower is built a stone with Norman architectural ornament upon it.

There was a church here in King Stephen’s time, which was given to the prior and convent of Shelford by Ralph Alselin, the Norman lord of Laxton, and founder of Shelford Priory.

The earliest rectors we can trace are R. de Lexington and John de Sutton,1 presented by the Prior and Convent, the latter in 1240. An exchange with Gotham seems to have been made in the 13th century, when the advowson came back to the lords of the manor. Adam de Everingham, the then lord, presented on May 28, 1329.

The present tower is a re-building of an older one, and we have, the original arch, the sculptured ornaments on which, coupled with the architectural details of the nave arcades, bespeak them as Transitional, Norman to Early English, dating circa 1190. The west doorway is fully a century later, and was possibly an insertion in the old tower. To this later date may be assigned the addition of an upper stage, demolished in 1860. The clerestory of the nave, a fine piece of work, is a contribution by Archbishop Rotherham (1480-1500), who acquired the advowson, a valuable one, and gave it to his College of Rotherham. This benefactor is figured in a mitre on the north battlements, with his right hand raised in blessing, and his left holding his cross. Beneath his feet are sculptured three stags, in positions not very heraldric, but clearly referring to his arms, viz., “Vert, three bucks trippant argent, attired or.”

The stone corbels supporting the roof are alternately sculptured as Apostles, with their symbols, and angels bearing musical instruments, above which, carved in wood, are demi-angels bearing shields, at one time richly coloured. The church, unfortunately, lost a number of the above figures during the restoration of 1860. The western arches of each of the arcades were then destroyed, and the tower was re-built one bay further east. The whole of the south, west, north, and part of the east walls of the church are modern; also all the slated roofs. The walls on the south and north are not built on the old foundations, but within the area of the older church, with the object of contracting it in width to conform with the smaller number of inhabitants, and the diminished importance of the village. This part of the church contains heraldric bearings, both internally and externally, the de Roos coat being prominent on the rafters, and that of Longvillers on the south battlements. There is one coat unidentified, and another on which the bearings are so badly cut that I doubt if they were ever recognisable. Without doubt the clerestory windows contained much painted glass, which has utterly perished. The cross at the east end of the gable of the nave is in the form of the letter M, and was formerly at the east end of the chancel. In the north aisle are portions of a dated oak screen,, somewhat richly carved, erected by Robert de Trafford in 1532, inscribed with his name, the salutation of the Virgin, and a shield with a representation of the five wounds of Christ.’ The chancel screen is original and is possibly Bishop Rotherham’s work.

(1) Robert Sutton, of Aram, co. of Nottingham, was, in consideration of the eminent services he had rendered to the royal cause during the Civil War, elevated to the peerage, by letters patent, dated 21 November, 1645, as Baron Lexinton, a name taken from Lexington, now called Laxton, co. Nottingham, which Lordship Richard Lexinton held In the reign of King John . . . —Burkes’ Dormant and Extinct Peerages.

 

Laxton (part 2)

Published here

Sedilia at Laxton.

Sedilia at Laxton.

The chancel bears evidence of having been re-built in the early Perpendicular Period, say about 1400, and of the arcades, at least a century earlier, being left untouched, and re-used. The arches in the aisles were probably narrowed at the late restoration, their first pointed character not being original. The south chapel was the burial place of the chief or superior lords of the manor, holding of the King, the Everinghams, a family descend­ing from the Norman Alselins, and one of great power and wealth, endowed with the hereditary custodianship of the royal forests of Notts. and Derbyshire, down to the close of the thirteenth century. Their importance, and that of their Anglo-Saxon or old English predecessors, is no doubt indicated by the large earthworks (the largest in the county), situate in the “Old Hall Grounds,” some quarter of a mile distant from the north of the church.