Planting Trees in the Margin
1999, London in brisk fall, a young woman arrived with great hope from margin to center. Wretchedly poor, wandering bewildered through busy streets, unable to afford to eat at a restaurant, shivering under blankets in her freezing, tiny flat in Peckham, she attended art school weekdays and museums on the weekends, both remarkably free of charge, remnants of the post war socialist ideals that rebuilt England. She could barely afford art supplies, so she gravitated toward the computer labs where they had recently installed audio and video editing software free for student use. She made friends online, built a small community, and went out to see experimental music and film in the back-lanes and low-rent corners of the sprawling metropolis. She was unemployable, the locals claimed they couldn’t understand her accent although her English was competent, having studied the language with her father, who also went into exile to another English-speaking country to escape dictatorship and dysfunction at home. She was drawn to the powerful smells from the Tandoor ovens in Whitechapel – life emanating from the alleys – on the margins between subjugated histories.
The young woman’s art professors studied in the most prestigious institutions and circled the gilded halls of power like carrion birds eying their next belly-full of meat. During critiques, some students are made to cry, while others are exalted, egos soaring. No one is producing anything that will affect culture deeply, but the professors interpret their job as a sorting exercise. During her final critiques, the young woman plays a white vinyl record she produced in collaboration with other young artists. The sound is a collage of sound fragments from cassette tapes her parents sent back and forth in the mail to their parents across the ocean, longing for the sounds of each other’s voices during long years of living apart. Her professors – pale skin draped in black, mod haircuts blending into slouchy turtleneck sweaters – stirred anemically in their chairs. After a long, hostile silence, the more magnanimous presenting male professor asked in a soft voice: “how did you publish this?”
The young woman answered straightforwardly, unaware a trap had been set: “I pressed a short run on my independent press. I have published three other records on the independent presses of friends and colleagues. We sell on consignment to independent record shops and small internet distributors and have almost recouped our expenses.”
Magnanimity shifted quickly into a menacing authority: “so you have these family recordings from your childhood? You publish yourself and your friends? Where is the criteria? Where is the value here? Why should we listen to this?” No other questions were asked, no interpretations were offered about the form or content. The critique ended abruptly, the room’s attentions moved on to a preppy, alert looking abstract painter from Windsor. On the long walk back to her cold flat, the young woman decided that she would drop out of this art school. She also decided in the same instant that although she will continue to make work as she knew how, she would avoid placing it at the feet of these kinds of people.
It was not a surprise that immigrant, working-class women had no value, she understood social hierarchies already. When her aunt worked cleaning the house of a famous architect, she was only allowed through a discreet back door. What came as a shock is the implication that people and their ideas only have value if they are selected and made visible by gatekeepers. Self-validation is not possible since there is no intrinsic value in art and ideas. The young woman’s professors wanted visibility in the competitive London art scene, and therefore considered its criteria as absolute: stories are pre-sorted by hierarchy. Visibility by selection is total. The irony that her professors were cosplaying a counterculture did not change this fact. No matter how misogynist, racist, classist, nationalist, and petty the values of the London art scene were, it was a natural event – gale-force winds – simply naïve to turn against them. Conforming to the whims and arbitrary judgments of the gatekeepers determined material well-being: great tides of money flowed through these institutions. By doling material rewards, art was competitive, and this competition took the form of intense social combat inside the classrooms, on the streets, and in the backrooms and showrooms of art. Students from the most prestigious art schools locked up their work after repeated incidents of vandalism by jealous peers. Mostly everyone followed this orchestration, shaping themselves into the mold, willfully destroying their own imaginations and brutally attacking their peers. When the young woman returned to pack up her studio at school, she could hardly believe what she saw: several of her works had been destroyed, torn, trampled. Other works had been stolen, almost nothing remained. If her work was so threatening to become a target, didn’t that indicate value?
Visibility ≠ Value
Hegemony cultivates stunted imagination as a powerful weapon against the formation of anything that threatens constructive change. The forced suppression of imagination has been expressed often and in many ways. Marc Fisher’s term Capitalist Realism describes our condition as the inability to imagine anything outside capitalism.[1] Antoni Gramsci observed that “common sense” is accepted as “eternal truths” while conditioning mass resignation and passivity through the uncritical acceptance of a constructed social structure.[2] Grace Lee Boggs urged us to reimagine everything, “we must think beyond Capitalist categories.”[3] Angela Davis during an interview on Al Jazeera said “in imaging the future, it cannot be a capitalist future, it cannot be a future that is based on the exploitation of others.”[4] Psychoanalyst Stijn Vanheule: “Not only is there little public discussion on alternatives for the free market, this model has pervaded our social-cultural life.”[5]
The culture industry plays a significant role in the diffusion of a constructed ideological “realism” masquerading as common sense. Guy Debord framed the Spectacle’s tautological production of the visible: “what appears is good; what is good appears.” Passive public acceptance of what is visible, and thus what is imagined, is the governing strategy of a hegemonic order such as capitalism. Confusing visibility with value, we witness a curator declare that he was never really into On Kawara until he saw his show at the MOMA. Canonization guarantees visibility, visibility is the exchange of inconvenient inherent value with convenient use-value. Presence or absence of inherent value is inconsequential since visibility itself is the only criteria that matters, exchanging anything real with idle idol.
Idle Culture
Idle talk is talk without the burden of content. Idle culture is idling a bus, the engine runs, burning fuel, generating pollution. People jump on the bus, (that is, the bandwagon), lured by idol, that is: brand-forward promises of titillating newness as a salve for pain and emptiness. Onboard, people are separated from their cash and/or their attention span and the bus circles slowly, and then stands still, engine spewing smoke. No one feels better about themselves. People eventually exit the bus and stand in line to wait for a newly redecorated idle bus, recycled from busses driving slowly around in circles, alternating between periods of idling to pick up more followers. Official capitalist culture is an unfathomably large parking lot for idle culture, meaninglessness raised to idolatry. Authentic culture exists as a marginalized body, outside the closed circles (and resources) of parking lots. Authentic culture is strategically welcomed in mainstream idling as inoculation, but only after it has been killed and formalized, that is: processed for entertainment. Entertainment is culture without the burden of content. Byung-Chul Han, channeling Heidegger, writes: “Entertainment is an unburdening of being that generates pleasure.”[6] In capitalist culture, entertainment is visible, pleasurable, and the only thing that matters. While some may protest the inclusion of capital “A” art in this formulation, the New York Times and other papers of record have long ago, and ontologically correctly, merged art reporting into the “Arts and Entertainment” category.
Authentic culture – that is, culture stemming from spontaneous observation of the real in recognition of lived reality outside of and inconvenient for ideological expressions of self-preservation – exists and thrives on the margins. Culture on the margins takes pride in being, and living differently, in tune with a reality not constructed for use-value. By not “selling out” as it was once disparagingly called a long time ago, marginal culture refuses to sacrifice sense of self, developed ethical compass, commitment, health and well-being, and communal connections. Marginal culture refuses to negotiate with managerial HR. Marginal culture has exited Paulo Freire’s Wheel of Oppression, where the oppressed is enticed to wait for their opportunity to be the oppressor themselves: ticket masters gatekeeping on the idle busses of culture.
Cooptation and instrumentalization is the normal method of managing the marginal forms of life. This is done by carefully selecting, promoting, and rewarding symbolic examples of life on the margins, and re-representing these ideas as formalism, stripped of any threatening content. Solidarity among those on the margins is continuously threatened by the strategic use of violence with one hand, and reward with the other. The strategic lottery win that falls upon selected representatives amongst marginal culture offers evidence of the competition that exists to receive mainstream blessing and the material rewards it provides. Art institutions elevate those so anointed – lottery winners seasonally selected, (and increasingly tokenized for PR), thus celebrating and normalizing competition itself. The vast majority of life remains marginal. The ideas and movements bubbling continuously there are mined as raw material for the arts and entertainment industry that unambiguously represents the power and might of the capitalist ruling classes.
The phrase “sell-out” left common use with the general victory that occurred when neoliberalism replaced all dreams with one: compete with one another towards the center stages of the spectacle where winner takes all. While the margins grow even larger, many within have lost even their dreams. Dreaming of a better life is re-framed as “building my brand” a goal in alignment with the competitions of the neoliberal order. Among the great majority, little desire remains to change the mainstream for the betterment of humanity – this has been framed as naïve, impractical, and off-the-wall. The administrator ticket masters who are responsible to program public-facing spectacles use the front-facing lottery-winners from the margins as public relations, feigning that their institution conducts the ethical business of a humanist and genuine culture, thus allowing the capitalist reality of ruthless exploitation, bloody murder, and ecocide to continue its busy-ness-as-usual still visible behind the scenes.
In this ethically contorted environment of lottery-winning, there is almost no alternative remaining. Artists, writers, artist run spaces, indy record labels, small presses, artists cooperatives and other independent cultural producers on the margins project their work as steppingstones to brand-building, aspiring to eventual mainstream breakthrough and their ticket onto an idling idol bus. The main way to achieve this is by going viral in the all-knowing market. The viral quickly becomes legitimized by the more elite branches of the cultural industry such as historians and curators, and then capitalized by an entire industry. What is seen is good. What is good is seen.
The eternal truth of capitalist common sense has cut so deeply, that not even the most capable people dream of anything but success on the market’s terms. McKenzie Wark, intellectually infidelious in the boldest ways, who refuses to write a traditional memoir sell-out for the “conglomerates” still writes line after line of apologist, capitalist-realist conformism. “I could be writing esoteric things for a tiny readership, but for some very mixed motives, I want this book to sell. I’m doing my best to sell it. And it worked—both books sold well.” [7] And while she boldly claims “to just write whatever the fuck I wanted” she also dismisses the entire possibility of any alternative to the market: “What’s a writer to do? One tactic is refusal. Stick to the periphery of the industry, to the small presses, to circuits of writing and reading that do their best to de-commodify that relation. I’m all for publishing collectives with political agendas, but they tend not to endure long, and struggle to get distribution.”[8]
A small press that struggles amidst the conglomerates has no value, and no hope of life? Suffering in the markets and public-private partnerships of neoliberalism, are we not even allowed to dream of something better? What if writing “whatever the fuck I wanted” had entailed the “esoteric things” of dreaming dreams from the margins? What Wark implies is that we are all forced to compete on the battlefields of neoliberal capitalism because on the margins there is only material deprivation. We must sell, even if only to niche flaneurs on Broadway, and it is of no use to even dream that there could be any other way.
The Margins
bell hooks framed cultural hegemony as the intersection of class, race, and sexism.[9] Discourse on the other has been mapping further locations for exclusion, including ability/disability, mental health, nationality, geography, gender orientation, and religion among others. Art institutions maneuver and discipline via exclusion of those signaling one, two or more categories, in an ever-shifting spectrum of hate. Artists who have not won the lottery of life have nevertheless managed to transcend their “education” generation after generation, working with embodied wisdom and imagination, thriving on the margins. bell hooks’ lived experience taught her vital perspectives, identifying marginality as more than a site of deprivation, instead offering “the possibility of radical perspectives from which to see and create, to imagine alternatives, new worlds.” Marginality is thus the source of power, invention and a “central location for the production of a counter hegemonic discourse that is not just found in words but in habits of being and the way one lives.”[10]
The margins are usually thought in terms of “lack” in those without access to resources, visibility, influence, power, and so on. But to reconsider the margins is to reconsider value. The margin is a place for resistance, to imagine another reality where we have escaped the colonizer/colonized (bell hooks), oppressor/oppressed (Paulo Freire) equation. What the margins have with great abundance is diversity.
The areas of greatest biodiversity in the world are from countries peripheral to power such as Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Vietnam, Thailand, New Guinea, Madagascar, Congo and South Africa. The zones with dynamic pollination are also peripheral to the cultural elite: from the lower classes, the partially employed, under-employed, banished deviants, neighborhoods of immigrants, peoples of color, self-organized communities, collaborative structures, co-ops, redistributive groups, collective natural resource management, collective creative production, low-rent alleys, and so on: all powerhouses of life. Whole countries, and even entire continents are filled with life on the margins of power. Capitalist institutions know this, and do most of their shopping amongst the margins, buying up gene diversity at deep, five-finger discounts for the strategic development of the center. Dreamers of better lives: postal workers, family farmers, artists without exhibitions, writers without agents, adjunct laborers, professors without tenure, laborers, all somehow alive despite the continual mining of their cores.
The dictionary definition of margin is “the space around the printed or written matter on a page.” The negative space around the page is a visible invisible: any designer knows that layout leans on empty space in relationship to figure. A well-designed book considers eye movement and the hands holding it. In the supposedly empty space of the margins are the origins of the written Spanish language. In the monastery of Suso in northern Spain, 11th century manuscript copiers became aware that the Latin texts were difficult to understand and began to write clarifying notes and translations in the local, marginal, vernacular language on the margins. Written evidence of this new language was explored, worked through, expressed through the margins, and outlived its Latin origins.
The margins also offer a different narrative than the center. For example, the margins of 13th and 14th century illuminated manuscripts often housed drawings that were not necessarily connected to the text. Drawings of fantastic creatures and monsters lived on the margins of these religious texts, inspiring the imagination, giving rest, or unlocking deeper meanings. These freely imaginative images offered a vibrant alternative to the main text.[11]
Marginalia, a word first documented in 1804, refers to handwritten commentary in the margins of individual books.[12] Edgar Allen Poe said about marginalia “we therefore talk freshly – boldly – originally – with abandonment – without conceit.”[13] The margins offer possibilities of speaking inventively with less restraint.
Torah editions such as Etz Hayim, Stone, Hertz, and Plaut, contain accompanying commentary compiled over different periods. These notes, or mefareshim, normally take up more space on the page than the biblical text itself. Commentary is the center of ongoing discussions on the Torah, shifting focus from the center to the margin, further complicating positioning, queries the human origins of the text. Commentary is the place to record dissent, offer alternative readings, translations, and build conversations, and renews its meaning generation after generation.
Planting a tree (or replanting native grasslands), is the right thing to do now because it is action of pure optimism for the future. While we might not be around to enjoy the shade, we hope that someone will be there, and will offer a silent thank you to fresh winds.
Meaningful, genuine alternative cultural production thrives on the margins, and demonstrates optimism for something better than this. Cultural production distanced from mainstream cultural narratives have taken many wild and important forms, celebrating life in the more populous margins of the mainstream. Countless artists and writers are intrinsically motivated by observation of lived reality. The most powerful cultural works are not made with the impoverished dream of being co-opted by a mainstream who hates them. We question how desire is formed, and how can it be reformed to value that which is excluded by capitalism: health, the natural environment, love, equality, strong social solidarity, and the absolute embrace of genetic diversity guaranteeing future life.
In Your Hands
Shelves and tables overflow with books, each book overflowing with ideas and energy, and yet we only catch a small glimpse of a world boiling over from the margins. The biodiversity of culture produced every day of every year contributes to future archeology.
-Aeron Bergman and Alejandra Salinas.
(Text first published in OEI #104-105, Stockholm, Sweden)
[1] Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism, (Winchester: Zero Books, 2009)
[2] James Martin, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, January 13, 2023, https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/gramsci/#Hege
[3] “On Revolution: A Conversation Between Grace Lee Boggs and Angela Davis” held on
March 2, 2012 at the Pauley Ballroom, University of California, Berkeley.
[4] Angela Davis on the argument for police and prison abolition. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnRUHYkjwx4
[5] Vanheule Stijn, “Capitalist Discourse, Subjectivity and Lacanian Psychoanalysis”, Frontiers in Psychology Vol 7, (2016). Vanheule exaggeratedly sites 4 sources for this single comment: Todd McGowan, The End of Dissatisfaction? Jacques Lacan and the Emerging Society of Enjoyment, (New York, NY: SUNY, 2004), Richard Sennett. The Culture of New Capitalism, (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006), Paul Verhaeghe, What About Me? The Struggle for Identity in a Marked-based Society, (London: Scribe, 2014), Andrea Mura, Lacan and debt: the discourse of the capitalist in times of austerity. Philos. Today 59, 2015, 154–177
[6] Byung-Chul Han, Good Entertainment, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 2019), 72
[7] McKenzie Wark,” Critical (Auto) Theory “, e-flux, Issue #140, November 2023, https://www.e-flux.com/journal/140/572300/critical-auto-theory/
[8] ibid
[9] bell hooks. Black Looks: Race and Representation, (Boston: South End Press, 1992), 126
[10] bell hooks. Marginality as Site of Resistance. In: Ferguson, R., Gever, M., Minh-ha, T.T., and West, C.
(eds.) Out There: Marginalization and Contemporary Cultures. (New York: MIT Press, 1989), 341–343
[11] Lilian Randall, M.C. Images in the Margins of Gothic Manuscripts. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966)
[12] Joana Antunes, Maria de Lurdes Craveiro, and Carla Alexandra Gonçalves, The Center as Margin, Eccentric Perspectives on Art, (Delaware: Vernon Press, 2019), 18
[13] Edgar Allan Poe, Marginalia, In the Works of Edgar Allan Poe, (New York: Armstrong & Son, 1884), 178
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