One of my mother’s favorite books was a little essay written in 1883 by a french socialist “journalist, literary critic, political writer and activist”, Paul Lafargue. He must have been quite a character; the book, written while he was in jail, is entitled The Right to be Lazy and it’s available online. “It polemicizes heavily against contemporary liberal, conservative and even socialist ideas of work” (hence everybody), says the book’s own Wikipedia entry: Lafargue criticises “the primacy of the “right to work”, and argues that laziness, combined with human creativity, is an important source of human progress.” I cannot but agree with Lafargue, even though I’ve never actually managed to read the book.
Archivio del mese February 2009
Doppia lettura al quadrato
Doppio aggiornamento delle due rubriche cartacee: due Avvisi di Chiamata (da Rumore), uno sulla mia emigrazione e l’altro sulle gioie dell’invecchiamento (e gli orrori della resistenza a esso), e due InLoop (da InSound) – uno sui grandi afro-americani venuti prima di Obama e l’altro su come si compone la musica elettronica (e dove andare a cercare il prossimo Stravinski).
PS: Inevitabilmente ho un blog in inglese, Con/temporary alien: siete i benvenuti anche lì.
Deeply dutch
Last night’s gig at SAIC went well, I’d say: thanks for being there (if you did).
People often ask me why I’m moving to Holland. Here’s one reason (from Wikipedia):
On February 23, 2008, Dutch public broadcasting corporations VPRO and BNN screened Deep Throat on national television as part of a themed night on the history of pornographic films, and the influence of pornography in youth culture in The Netherlands. Although the film aired after 10 PM, following a guideline for adult television, and was embedded in a discussion program, political parties (especially Dutch cabinet member party Christian Union) were clamouring for steps to be taken to prevent airing. The Minister of Education and Media Ronald Plasterk declared that he could not and did not want to forbid the airing of the film. The movie has been seen by 907,000 viewers.
I just love my dutchies.
Stimulus Blues
There’s a lot of debate today about the so called Stimulus Package, and if the investment of this huge amount of public money will produce and save jobs and will effectively stimulate the american economy. While some spending seem to have a simple, obvious result (building roads will create new jobs in road construction), other are more dubious or indirect. There’s also much talk about if Obama’s economic measures resemble those deployed by Roosevelt in the 30s, in the phase known until today as The Great Depression. Here’s a little story about the long term effects of one of those measures – from Wikipedia:
Through a grant from the American Council of Learned Societies, John Lomax was able to set out in June 1933 on the first recording expedition under the Library’s auspices, with Alan Lomax (then eighteen years old) in tow. (…) Robert Winslow Gordon, Lomax’s predecessor at the Library of Congress, had written (…) that, “Nearly every type of song is to be found in our prisons and penitentiaries”. Folklorists Howard Odum and Guy Johnson also had observed that, “If one wishes to obtain anything like an accurate picture of the workaday Negro he will surely find his best setting in the chain gang, prison, or in the situation of the ever-fleeing fugitive.” But what these folklorists had merely recommended John and Alan were able to put into practice. In their successful grant application they wrote, that prisoners, “Thrown on their own resources for entertainment . . . still sing, especially the long-term prisoners who have been confined for years and who have not yet been influenced by jazz and the radio, the distinctive old-time Negro melodies.” They toured Texas prison farms recording work songs, reels, ballads, and blues from prisoners such as James “Iron Head” Baker, Mose “Clear Rock” Platt, and Lightnin’ Washington.
In July they acquired a state-of-the-art, 315-pound acetate phonograph disk recorder. Installing it in the trunk of his Ford sedan, Lomax soon used it to record, at the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola, a twelve-string guitar player by the name of Huddie Ledbetter, better known as “Lead Belly,” whom they considered one of their most significant finds. During the next year and a half, father and son continued to make disc recordings of musicians throughout the South.
That’s how the Blues was “discovered” by Lomax. There’s a heartbreaking account of Alan Lomax’s 1941 visit to Stovall, Mississippi (paid by the Library of Congress), where he found and recorded the then unknown Muddy Waters.
It might have not seem so at the time, but this is the best spent money in the history of stimulus packages. Not only it allowed the world to know the Blues (the most influential art of the 20th century), but these recordings spawned hundreds of musical genres that fed millions of americans for decades (and still do), producing more jobs than any major company has ever done – and the coolest music the world knows today.
Save sex now!
Here’s my latest attempt to save the world: a series of digital postcards and buttons. If you agree with this urgent message, share, remix and link the images as you like. They are released under a CC attribution license.
E mettila da parte
Qualche giorno fa ho chiuso via email (e viceversa, credo) con un noto operatore artistico (non so bene che definizione dargli, diciamo storico dell’arte: non vorrei offenderlo, anzi) – per mille ragioni con le quali non vi annoio: non è questo l’oggetto di questo post. Poi a un certo punto ho pensato: “Forse non gli ho mai davvero detto bene come la penso sull’arte”, e allora gliel’ho spiegato:
L’arte, nel 2009, secondo me ha l’obbligo di salvare il mondo, e e’ l’unica che puo’ farcela. Ovvio che se per arte si intende Cascella, o anche delle videate sfocate a loop che non si capisce una mazza (i cascella del duemila), non ci siamo. Ma grazie a dio ce n’è molta altra che invece ci prova – fin quasi a morirne (io ho fatto letteralmente la fame per molti anni, mentre “davo vita a una forma d’arte sin lì mai vista” e chi mi conosce lo sa benissimo). Artista e curatore sono figure che per molti anni ho detestato, finche’ non mi e’ successa una cosa strabiliante: ho incontrato artisti sensati, urgenti e pericolosi, e curatori attenti, speleologici e infuocati. Spero sinceramente che un giorno questo accada anche a te.
E poi ho scoperto un’altra cosa importantissima: sottrarsi non serve, il diniego e’ codardia, mollezza e sconfitta. Nella vita bisogna assumersi delle responsabilita’, prendere delle posizioni e indossare cappotti ingombranti che fai fatica a portare, come ad esempio capire che cio’ che si fa e’ arte, o il curatore. Il passo successivo è svuotare queste definizioni dal ciarpame accumulatosi in anni di sistema dell’arte, per poi riempirle di acqua fresca, droga, umori vaginali e senso. Questa è una chiave per la felicità, che è naturalmente una forma di disperazione.
E lui mi ha risposto:
mi spiace, non ci credo.
dimostri un’ingenuità disarmante.
sarebbe struggente, da una parte. ma dall’altra, non è possibile. non hai 25 anni. non ci posso credere che con l’intelligenza che hai, quello che scrivi e come, tu possa dichiarare queste posizioni rispetto all’arte e alla sua funzione.
Apro i commenti, ma vi prego di evitare cose tipo “Bravo Sergio, gliene hai dette quattro.” Non è quello il punto, naturalmente.
Smokeful Chicago
As a compassionate, respectful and moderate smoker since long before any anti smoking law was passed anywhere, I’m really puzzled by triumphal campaigns such as the Congratulations Illinois for your smoke-free year series of ads currently on Tv. There’s even a doctor saying that his patiens now breathe much better. Do they? Where do they live? Not in Chicago, among the most smokeful cities I’ve ever visited: most buildings are overheated (and emit proud columns of thick smoke all day long), smelly diesel trucks roam freely the streets of the city, people use the car even for very short journeys – always one per car – and leave it running while they shop for organic bean sprouts. So yes, I agree, people shouldn’t smoke in public places, restaurants should be cigarette-free, children and persons with pulmonary problems should be well protected. As for a truly smoke-free Illinois, I hope to live long enough to see that day, but the chances are very slim.
The Italy that never was
I love the imaginary Italy you often encounter in America, mostly in food-related situations. It is of course a postcard version of my country that bears very little relation to actual contemporary Italia. The main character of this fictional Italy is certainly Alfredo, a not so common name that here seems to symbolize all food italian. The legend says that the actual Alfredo pasta recipe (which italians call Fettuccine alla Panna, and generally avoid) was passed on by an actual restaurant in Rome (Alfredo alla Scrofa) that I’ve never seen – and believe me, I literally spent my adolescence in the vicinity of Via della Scrofa. Still, it might be that some chef named Alfredo suggested to someone that a very cool pasta recipe was Fettuccine with butter and milk cream. In this case I wouldn’t recommend his restaurant (but 110,000 websites seem to think otherwise).
Wanna have something simple and nice? Try Spaghetti alla Carbonara (for 2):
1/4 lb. bacon
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1/2 lb. pasta (spaghetti or linguine)
2 whole eggs, moderately whipped
Fresh grated Pecorino cheese
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1/2 lb. pasta (spaghetti or linguine)
2 whole eggs, moderately whipped
Fresh grated Pecorino cheese
Cut the bacon into little pieces and fry in the olive oil until crispy.
Boil the pasta al dente. Drain and put it back in the pot. Immediately throw in the eggs, the (very hot) bacon with its cooking oil and sprinkle with cheese. Toss and serve. Add black pepper to taste.
PS: By the way, there’s also an imaginary USA in Italy: it usually features some dude in jeans and cowboy hat, a low rent version of the Marlboro man.
Taken by exhaustion
One of the very different things between the US and other places I’ve visited is the insistence of TV advertising, that sometimes produces a spectacular counter-effect, at least in me. Take Taken, for example, the Liam Neeson action thriller that opens this weekend. By now I know everything about this movie: they kidnap his daughters, he rescues them and kills all the bad guys. I heard over and over again about his “particular set of skills”, including the sexy tone he uses on the phone; skills that he’s “acquired in years and years” of better movies and now deploys in very predictable Hollywood flicks. “Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you”: you’re right Liam, they do, also thanks to a publicity budget that probably exceeds production costs.
I know that I’ve been watching way too much television here (always a good way to understand the local Pop culture), but I’ll keep doing that: compared to Taken, Bonanza reruns feel like Nouvelle Vague films.
Benvenuti su Fosforo, compilation di amenità verbali di 
