#selections from truisms

[archiveofaffinities]

Jenny Holzer, Selections from Truisms, Spectacolor Board, 20' x 40', Installation, Public Art Fund Inc., Times Square, New York, New York, 1982

[milksockets]

selections from 'truisms,' 1986 in jenny holzer - diane waldman (1989)

[luckyacid]

Jenny Holzer Untitled (Selections from Truisms, Inflammatory Essays, The Living Series, The Survival Series, Under a Rock, Laments, and Child Text), 1989 Tricolor L.E.D. electronic-display signboard Dimensions variable

[probablyasocialecologist]

Palestinian liberation is a feminist issue. While this truism should need no elaboration, it has, as with so much that relates to Palestine, necessitated discussions, clarifications, analysis and documentation, again and again. Palestine rights activists have long been familiar with the all too common phenomenon known as PEP: Progressive Except for Palestine. Less known, but no less common in feminist circles is FEP, the Feminist Except for Palestine phenomenon. Books such as Evelyn Shakir’s 1997 Bint Arab recount incidents of FEP going back to the ’60s, with many Arab feminists being shunned by their American friends over their support for Palestinian liberation. FEP had one of its early expressions on a global stage at the 1985 United Nations World Conference on Women in Nairobi, Kenya, when Betty Friedan, an icon of second‑wave western feminism, with its slogan ‘the personal is political’, tried to censor the late Egyptian feminist Nawal el‑Saadawi as she was about to walk up to the stage to deliver her address. ‘Please do not bring up Palestine in your speech,’ Friedan told el‑Saadawi. ‘This is a women’s conference, not a political conference.’ Sadly, little has changed in global north feminism’s rejection of the very humanity of the Palestinian people, as evidenced in their continued exclusion from national and global discussions of women’s issues. White feminism has continued to align itself with orientalist imperialist militarism; Ms Magazine cheered the Bush Administration’s US war on Afghanistan in 2001, calling it a ‘coalition of hope’, and suggesting that invasion and occupation could, indeed would, liberate Afghan women. The white feminists in the Feminist Majority Foundation, which bought Ms Magazine in December 2001, never consulted with Afghan feminist organisations such as the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan, who denounced both religious fundamentalism and western intervention in Afghanistan, and who opposed the US attacks on their country. More recently, hegemonic feminism’s desire to exempt Israel from criticism led to the fragmentation of the Women’s March, the coalition of women’s and feminist groups that came together to denounce the election of Donald Trump to the presidency of the US. The co‑chair of the 2017 Women’s March was Brooklyn‑born Palestinian American Linda Sarsour, a grassroots organiser who had long championed Palestinian rights. When journalist Emily Shire asked in the New York Times ‘Does Feminism Have Room for Zionists?’, Sarsour responded with a resounding ‘No’. Many felt threatened by her outspokenness and visibility. Another Palestinian feminist, Mariam Barghouti, also asserted in a 2017 article that ‘No, You Can’t Be a Feminist and a Zionist’, and explained that: ‘When I hear anyone championing Zionism while also identifying as a feminist, my mind turns to images of night raids, to the torture of children and to the bulldozing of homes.’ In the wake of Israel’s latest war on Gaza, white feminists are denouncing the unsubstantiated accusations of sexual violence against Israeli women, without addressing the Israeli state’s amply documented gendered violence against Palestinian women, children, and men. ‘Feminism cannot be selective. Its framework comes from true and absolute liberation not just of women, but of all peoples,’ Barghouti continues, building on bell hooks’ analysis of feminism as a complete liberatory movement. ‘A feminist who is not also anti‑colonial, anti‑racist and in opposition to the various forms of injustice is selectively and oppressively serving the interests of a single segment of the global community.’ Simply, ‘feminism’ that aligns with regimes that engage in racial and ethnic oppression is gendered supremacy; no ideology that hinges on supremacy and discrimination is reconcilable with feminism.

[cosmicanger]

selections from 'truisms,' 1985 in jenny holzer - diane waldman (1989)

[maytheoddshq]

Neptune Akoya (she/her). District 4 Tribute. 58. Michelle Yeoh.

There was a misunderstanding throughout all of Panem about District Four Tributes. Most people didn’t understand how they were Careers - trained killers - when the people who entered the Arena tended to be so mellow, down-to-earth, and humble. The image of a District Four Tribute did not align with those from One and Two, who sought glory, violence, and fame. The highly trained and focused Tributes from Four did not seem coherent with the District’s otherwise rebel-leaning sentiment, where they opposed much of what the Capitol did and stood for while sending Volunteer after trained Volunteer into the Games.

It came down to one word: community.

Community was everything in Four, and to Neptune Akoya. A deep distrust of government was instilled in her early, and a commitment to her District was similarly taught. After all - when the government eventually fell, District Four would have to take care of District Four. No one else would, and no one else could. This truism permeated through Neptune’s entire life. Whether that meant sharing her daily catch with a neighbor who didn’t fare as well, leaning on her family when she was injured on the boats, or training from birth to enter the Hunger Games, Neptune was solely focused on bettering the place she called home.

Yes, the Hunger Games were an integral part of District Four culture. Where Districts One and Two saw fame and glory, and many of the outer Districts saw tyrannical punishment, District Four saw them as a golden opportunity. Anytime Four brought home a Victor, that meant abundant food and resources for the District for a full six months. That was six months of time that could be spent shoring up for the next famine, or spent rebuilding walls and roads, or delving into the vibrant arts that District Four could create when taken care of. It meant that every citizen of Four was fed - not just those who could feed themselves. In short, winning the Games was the ultimate way to care for your community. And that wasn’t all; even entering the Games allowed for anyone in your District to take tessarae without fear and without shame. By Volunteering, you told the entire District, “I have your back. I support you.” 

And so, Neptune trained. She entered the Academy at a young age, fully prepared to lay down her life for the betterment of her community. After all, everyone died. If not of old age, then of the violence of the state. If not by the violence of the state, then the chaos of the ocean. If not the chaos of the ocean, then something else altogether - so what better way to let her community know they were loved than by offering herself to bring them the resources they needed? She felt comfortable killing; after all, the fish gave its life for her to feed her. The seaweed dried out in the sun made her fabrics. And every Victor that Four brought home came with it a District partner who had laid their life down for the community. All beings ceased eventually, so if it was by her hand, so be it. She could thank them for their aid, since every Tribute that died meant she was closer to enriching her entire District. What was 23 lives compared to the thousands back home?

Neptune trained for all of her youth in the Academy, perfecting weapons, staying fit, and maintaining her commitment to Four. However, it was simply never meant to be for her. Each cycle, a different pair was selected by the committee to represent the fishing District. And that was okay. That was part of all of it - serve her role as best she could until she was needed elsewhere. And at age 25, she graduated from the Academy and moved on to a different type of career. She returned to the coast to support her family - all fishermen. Her strength served her well on the boats out in the deep ocean, where the Akoyas fought big game like tuna and marlin.

Neptune found the love of her life on those boats: a fishmonger named Tetra. She was bookish and small, but gruff and hardheaded - the perfect balance to Neptune’s measured patience and grace. They met as Neptune brought fish to the market where Tetra was buying. She was the first person Neptune ever argued with, and from that moment she knew there was no one else who could rile her up that way. (At least, that’s the story Neptune told. Her family would disagree about the arguments).

For fifteen years, Neptune and Tetra built a life together. Hosting neighbors, attending to the home, keeping each other sharp and comfortable. Over the years, they did what they could to resist the Capitol, by shorting fish shipments, adjusting books to hide money away, by storing weapons on their fishing boat. But all beings came to an end. If not by old age, then by violence of the state. If not by the state, then by the chaos of the ocean. And sometimes, those lines were blurred.

Tetra had joined Neptune on a fishing voyage, as she often had over the years. A storm picked up, as it often did. And the boat capsized, as it sometimes does. What was odd, however, was the small explosion in the hull - where there was nothing that could explode. What was odd was the way neighbors seemed unable to reach them, even with their vessels designed for rescue. What was odd was Tetra, who could swim like the best of them, being too close to the blast when it happened. No one would be able to prove foul play, given the noise of the storm and the fact that the boat was now at the bottom of the ocean. But when Neptune was finally pulled onto a rescue craft, exhausted from trying to find Tetra, she knew in her heart that something was not right. Tetra’s body was never recovered.

All beings came to an end, as Neptune knew. But this event only spurred her on further, organizing and supporting the rebel cause. And then the announcement was made: the age restriction was to be lifted - and Neptune knew in her heart what she needed to do. There were young ones who felt prepared to go into the Arena, but that was not their fate. There would be other times for them. Neptune knew this was her chance to fully commit to the cause. Get in, win the Games, and bring back six months of prosperity to the District. After all, she had trained her entire life for this moment.

And all beings came to an end, anyway.

Trained, motivated, dedicated to the cause

Mellow, calculated, emotionally walled

Token: Tetra’s wedding ring

PENNED BY: M

[wilderhazard]

.... we’re all fucked up to some degree because it’s impossible to reconcile the ideals of academe with its reality.  The only happy people are the abusers, the bullies, and the sexual predators, and they’re all inherently miserable.  Many of us enter the field with dreams of a meaningful existence, of making a difference, and are then systematically ground down by the social and economic hardships of the profession. In these conditions, the ideological cliquishness within the profession begins to make sense.  It’s helped along by a power structure that rightly sees the self-professed scholar-activist as unthreatening.  Certain truisms and devotions prevail because they arise from an insidious pressure to conform.  If every professor you know seems to have the same take on Venezuela or Ukraine or China—the take that just so happens to align with State Department boilerplate—then it’s not a funny coincidence.  Those professors auditioned and were consequently selected for the task, just as they now select the younger generation to maintain a uniformity of thought that suits their class interests. I had no idea how ideologically stunted I was until leaving the profession.  Everything I took to be common wisdom was in fact a painstaking ritual of complaisance.  How eager I was to discourse about faraway places, about the proper way to run a government, about how the natives should conduct an insurrection.  A lot of academics are filled with unacknowledged messianism that looks grotesque once you learn to recognize it.  They won’t support any old revolution, any slapdash movement for Indigenous sovereignty, any third-rate anti-imperialist in the Global South.  They have standards.  And whose interests do those reverent standards end up serving?  Why, that’s entirely the wrong question. 

Steve Salaita has a memoir out!

[fierceawakening]

A friend of mine recently mentioned to me that someone has chastised them for being upset with someone who has a personality disorder for saying something hurtful to them. I don’t know the specifics and wouldn’t describe them if I did anyway, but a conversation followed about whether mentally ill people are responsible for their actions or not.

And leaving aside what everyone ELSE said about this, I’m realizing my answer is I’m not always sure.

It’s a tumblr truism that if a mentally ill person does a mean thing, they were “choosing to be an asshole,” and therefore are responsible. It’s described as if the illness stirs up a reaction in you, maybe an intense one, but you get a dialogue prompt in the game of Being You, where you get to choose to act on it or not. And if you did, you knew.

I’ve said before that I suspect the women in my family have narcissistic traits. My mom, my aunt, most notably my grandmother. I loved and still love my grandmother dearly, so this is not meant as “narcissists are unlovable and inhuman.” (Also, I’m AFAB and genetically related to these people. If I’m right that they have enough narcissistic traits to be an issue, then so, most likely, do I.) She was very smart, never let anything get in her way, and fiercely protective of me and others she loved. I don’t say this to claim she was devoid of love or completely horrible.

But! The woman was OBSESSED with how people saw her, how everything anyone said and did reflected on the family. She curled and dyed her hair well into her 90’s. It was the consistency, and the color, of straw. When she finally succumbed to dementia, one of the earliest signs was her going to a hair appointment… at 3am… and, finding the place closed, banging on the doors and screaming about how important her appointment was and how they simply had to attend her immediately until she was led away.

“It hurts to be beautiful” was her favorite saying. Any suggestion that beauty might be discardable, even temporarily, because one does not wish to be hurt, was written off as obviously foolish, maybe even crazy.

As her dementia advanced and her brain to mouth filter disintegrated, she began to comment incessantly on people around her who were ugly or fat. She went up to someone and berated him for choosing visible hearing aids rather than the subtle flesh toned kind.

My mom and aunt inherited her obsession with how things look, whether because personality is in part genetic or because she shamed it into them or both. Both have very aggressively shamed me over similar stuff, a lot. This is bad, and I don’t deserve it and neither did they from Grandma.

So the question of responsibility becomes, at least for me: what about that dialog box?

When my mom sees that I dress butch and is disgusted because I’m MEANT to be beautiful, or feels she’s failed at teaching me anything about adulthood because my floor isn’t swept, does she get that little break, that little pause, in the horror that is the thought someone will see my floor, and explicitly select “be an asshole?”

I find myself thinking not.

[lushbliss]

Had a feeling this was Jenny Holzer and yes...

[archiveofaffinities]

Jenny Holzer, Selections from Truisms, Spectacolor Board, 20' x 40', Installation, Public Art Fund Inc., Times Square, New York, New York, 1982

[milksockets]

selections from 'truisms' + 'the survival series' in jenny holzer - diane waldman (1989)

[drownmeinbeauty]

WORDY

The Guggenheim Museum is a notoriously difficult space for art. The most successful installations assert themselves sculpturally against the brazen and seductive forms of the architecture. An artist can't simply underestimate or obscure the Frank Lloyd Wright building.

Jenny Holzer's new exhibit Light Line updates her famous 1989 installation Untitled (Selections from Truisms, Inflammatory Essays, The Living Series, The Survival Series, Under a Rock, Laments, and Child Text), hanging scrolling electronic panels on the inner rotunda walls. The cool, dazzling text graphics with her iconic high-art "haiku" spiral upwards, pulsing like a stock ticker or electrocardiograph, speeded just enough to complicate legibility.

Some of Holzer's physical works are displayed in the small galleries along the ramp. There are marble benches, plaques, and shards engraved with original text. There are canvases laminated with gold foil and FBI diagrams plotting military attacks. There are reproductions of papers from the January 6 hearings. And there are metal panels stamped with Donald Trump's presidential tweets. These pieces are swallowed by the spiraling, sloping architecture; they can't hold their own, they feel small and lusterless. And, curiously, about half the galleries are left empty. The museum has never felt so desolate.

The electronic text settles right into the building. Compare this to the chyron on cable news, that might present facts at odds with the program, or address an altogether different subject. At the Guggenheim there's nothing of substance for Holzer's words to rub up against. More substantial artworks, visible in the galleries beyond the scroll, would have offered contrast.

Holzer's writings in the 80's and 90's carried a twinge of menace and subversion. BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. YOUR OLDEST FEARS ARE THE WORST ONES. They were platitudes and also the awful truth, not messaging one expected from fine art. Today they no longer surprise. One museum guest wore a tank top with ABUSE OF POWER COMES AS NO SURPRISE printed across the front, like a sports team logo.

Occasionally a line reaches a loopy kind of poetry. IN A DREAM YOU SAW A WAY TO SURVIVE AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY. Others are as dull-witted as the platitudes they were intended to dislodge. RAISE BOYS AND GIRLS THE SAME WAY. TORTURE IS BARBARIC. But here Holzer's writings, especially the most recent, just don't resonate; they feel jumbled, aphasic, as if the electronics controlling the monitors are generating the sentences. They observe laws of syntax but resist logic. I WILL THINK MORE BEFORE I CANNOT. IF YOU BEHAVED NICELY THE COMMUNISTS WOULDN'T EXIST.

As we're bombarded by text via messaging and media, words have lost some primal explain, arouse, and denote. This exhibit makes that spectacularly apparent.

Jenny Holzer, Light Line, 2024. Photo courtesy of the Guggenheim Museum.

[blistexenthusiast]

Jenny Holzer, Selection from Truisms

[worldsandemanations]

selections from ‘truisms,’ 1985 in jenny holzer - diane waldman (1989)

[cosmicanger]

selections from 'truisms' + 'the survival series,' 1986 in jenny holzer - diane waldman (1989)

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

From the introduction to Evelion:

On August 8th 1883, a group of three prominent German philosophers (Feuerbach, Schopenhauer, and Herbart) published an essay entitled "The nature of evil dismissed as a truism in the modern age." It was not a particularly remarkable document. It argued that because morality is human, its precepts must, by necessity, be contingent -- they are human conventions. And since human conventions come about through evolutionary processes involving the selection of individuals better suited to be successful -- that is, better able to survive and prosper -- those processes result in the development of morality and morality's prescriptions. The "truism" is then that whatever evils arise out of evolutionary processes are contingent evils, they may in principle be overcome by evolutionary processes in the future. Feuerbach's example was that, although it is certainly true that evil acts are generally more enjoyable than good ones, it is nonetheless impossible to tell whether any given act will be good or evil before it has occurred -- i.e., it cannot be determined ahead of time whether the act will be ultimately for the best. He thus concluded that "even the principle of evil itself would only appear to be evil if we assume to know what God has done and what he would do in the future."

He then goes on to make a similar argument against teleology in biology: teleology is human, so it would be incorrect to claim that "teleology is the explanation of the fact that things are the way they are."