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Posts tagged ‘共同体 community’

11月27日 上午10点-下午4点

市場開始:上午10点-下午4点
讲座:  下午1点-3点
地点: Studio-X Beijing 北京东城区安定门内大街方家胡同46, A103 [地图
电话: 010-64028682
邮箱: studioxbeijing@columbia.edu
网站: www.arch.columbia.edu/studiox/events

//////////////////////

November 27th, 2010, 10:00 ~ 16:00
market: 10:00 a.m. ~16:00 p.m.
talk: 13:00 p.m. ~ 15:00 p.m.
venue: Studio-X Beijing
A103, 46 Fangjia Hutong, Andingmen Inner Street, Dongcheng District, Beijing, China, 100007  [see map]
Tel : 010-64028682
contact: studioxbeijing@columbia.edu
web: www.arch.columbia.edu/studiox/events

///与会者/ Participants ///

“集市”是一个关于食物和城市农业的正在进行中的教育项目。它包含两部分:农民市场和一系列小项目。农民市场从北京自然/有机农业生产者和消费者之间的直接交易所产生的需求中发展出来。然而,这里仍旧存在着一个巨大的鸿沟,一些生产者产出过剩的有机产品,与此同时,一些消费者却不知从何买到绿色食品。“集市”便是这样一个平台,农民和消费者组建网络,最重要的是,他们还可以在城市中分享彼此的经验。这将使我们在饮食习惯、选择及行为上获得新的认识,继而成为一名合格的城市消费者,我们也相信,这将鼓励并使当地农民未来的生产获得收益。同样,我们组织小型讨论、演示、行为和工作坊,也带有教育的目的。

Country Fair is an ongoing educational endeavor, both a farmers’ market and a series of projects and lectures related to urban agriculture. It was developed out of the need to connect natural/organic farmers and consumers in Beijing.  Many farmers have an oversupply of produce, yet few consumers know how to begin a more natural way of eating.  The Country Fair serves as a platform for to learn about responsible urban practices and to demonstrate how the market works in Beijing: understanding distribution and consumption patterns will support farmers in their future practice.

Studio-X(哥伦比亚大学建筑、规划与历史保护研究院)是本次“集市”项目的合作方。关于农业的观念和城市空间的认识,以及本地食品如何进入城市的讨论,将在这个空间内进行。在本次会议中,我们还将绘制一张配送地图,以便更好地认识整个路线、可能超负荷的区域、环境问题,最简单的目的则是认识食物是如何配送的。

On November 27, the Country Fair will take place at Studio-X Beijing (Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation) – a multi-purpose space to engage with the fields of urban planning and development – and will include collaborative activities to explore how locally produced food comes into the city. During the day-long event, farmers and professors will speak about the policies that shape rural agricultural practices, and participants can contribute to digital map visualizing how food circulates in the city.

集市是“行动花园”项目的一部分,由植村絵美和北京维他命创意空间主持。

“Country Fair” has been developed through the project “Mobile Garden” by Emi UEMURA and Vitamin Creative Space in Beijing.

///“集市”组织 /// Country Fair Organization ///

As part of Emi UEMURA’s project “Mobile Garden & Calendar Restaurant” at the shop’s summer space in Caochangdi, on September 18th 2010 we invite you to Country Fair,” a gathering of local farmers whose practices emphasize organic, community-based and wholistic approaches.

The farmers, some of whom will be offering their produce for sale, will be available for exchanges of information and conversation. From 2pm to 4pm, there will be a round table discussion (in Chinese, but we will try to have some informal translation available) about farming in Beijing and China in general, and it should be quite inspiring and informative. Natural farming techniques are relatively small scale in Beijing, but as it grows what does it represent for the way our cities are fed, and as it becomes appropriated into an “industry” and a lifestyle image? How does it challenge the way we live, and our own potential to grow? Very important questions can be sourced to potatoes.

Please make your way to the shop on September 18th and join in!

Country Fair
September 18th, 2010

小毛驴市民农园 Little Donkey Farm, 天福園 God’s Grace Garden, 芳嘉园Farmer Duan, Lily Hsieh (Urban Compost), Laura (Vegan Baking), 方丹敏 Danmin (Calendar Dumplings), Pangbianr (Recipes Zine), and more

Market starting: 1:00 ~5:00pm

Round table talk : 2:00 ~ 4:00 pm

E-mail: project@vitamincreativespace.com

维他命创意空间这个店在草场地, 正在进行移动花园和日历餐厅计划.

移动花园计划通过在泡沫塑料盒里面栽培花草蔬菜, 来示范非传统的食物种植、食用方式. 日历餐厅计划根据移动花园的蔬菜成长情况来决定什么时候营业, 采用我们亲自栽培烹调的时蔬, 菜单上有比萨, 沙拉, 豆芽等选择.

种植天然、有机蔬菜的农民与北京的消费者之间依然缺乏链接, 部分农民存有多余的有机产品, 而市内的消费者却不知道如何享用到天然食物. 我的设想是在当地农贸集会上进行一些试验, 让消费者即可以支持当地农民, 又能了解到市场上有哪些选择, 以及怎么成为一名负责任的城市消费者.

移动花园和日历餐厅也可以作为我们的起点, 进一步促进农民与消费者之间的交流, 鼓励双方建立关系, 例如, 我们会邀请当地种植天然、有机食物的农民们参加资讯分享, 并交流有关宣传, 包装, 运输等方面的经验. 我们的小店也可以作为短期的销售点, 农民可以在店里寄卖蔬菜作为练习. 同时我们还在考虑如何在农民与艺术家之间产生有关农业和食物的对话.

On Wednesday Maya and I trekked to Houshajian to check out Emi‘s farm. From the Beigongmen stop on the far NW end of Line 4, we rode the 330 bus for an hour to its terminus outside the northwest corner of the 6th ring road.

我下个星期三去后沙涧看我朋友絵美的农场。去地铁4号线北宫门站然后汽车330号到小村在西北6环。

Emi rents her plot of farmland from a larger collection of farmers mostly associated with Little Donkey Farm, an organic CSA jointly operated by the Haidian government, Renmin University and Green Ground Eco-Tech Center.

絵美的农园是小毛驴农园的一部分。小毛驴农园是一个社区支持农业(CSA)工程经营海淀区政府,人民大学农业与农村发展学院, 和国仁城乡科技发展中心

Though it felt like the crack of dawn to me, we arrived well after the other farmers had finished their lunch so we took the recommendation of one of the Little Donkey Farmers to eat at at Lu Ya Tian Yuan in a nearby village. Maya asked them to cook up whatever was freshest so we were served a rare seasonal treat of fried squash blossoms accompanied by a lightly fried tree leaf that tasted bitter and somewhat basil-like, along with some exceptionally fresh doufu baicai soup.

我们到的时候,絵美的朋友推荐了绿雅田园,她很喜欢的饭馆。在绿雅田园我们吃了特别新鲜的西葫芦的花,有点苦的树叶,和豆腐白菜汤。

squash blossom / 西葫芦的花


bitter tree leaves / 有点苦的树叶


pigs and (semi) free-range chickens / 猪和自由放牧场的鸡



While Emi tracked down some tools Maya and I scoped out the local fauna. Little Donkey Farm raises pigs and chickens in a relatively free-range/”organic” environment. While I haven’t seen many Chinese farms outside of extremely rural contexts, I imagine LDF’s setup has to be fairly rare and humane for Beijing. I bought some farm-fresh eggs on my way out that taste noticeably better than what I’m used to from Jingkelong, without much of a price hike at all (LDF charges 18元 for a dozen eggs).

小毛驴农园也有猪和自由放牧场的鸡。我在中国没看到过很多农场(只在云南的在非常小村看见过),可是我觉得小毛驴农园比别的在中国的农场人道。我买了他们新鲜鸡蛋,很便宜的(18元/12个)还有很好吃的。

Most of the colorful summer tomatoes and corn stalks were gone. We harvested some baicai, string beans, green peppers, and radishes from Emi’s plot and fertilized the sweet potatoes, which will be arriving in droves come November. Emi is also working on some carrots and eggplant that will make for a delicious Autumn harvest…

这次夏天的庄稼(玉米,西红柿)都没有。在Emi的小农园我们收割白菜、青豆、绿色柿子椒、白萝卜和胡萝卜,并且给甘薯施肥。今年秋季应该有特别好吃的作物。。。

—–

* This post was originally written 4 September 2010 by Josh Feola, cross-posted from 旁边儿 pangbian’r.

There is nothing less passive than the act of fleeing… reading group day 10, photo by caleb waldorf

The thing to remember while crossing the threshold is that the process of world-making does demand the maintenance of suspended spaces of inquiry, even as it presses toward effective changes in the way that you sustain your material existence:

With whom do I create a world? What will it be made of? How will we maintain it? Where will we find the gazes that we humans need to keep doing whatever it is that we do? How to raise our own gazes past personal satisfactions to an activity that can attain the bracing and tragic dimensions of a real world? Can we or should we bring along any symbolic or material supplies from the richly appointed illusions we’ve just left? Is a politics necessary: do we somehere have to stand and fight? Is a counter-institution necessary: do we have to set up objective structures to start sharing whatever we have learned with people we don’t know? And how to keep this whole quixotic enterprise from failing, or drifting by inertial necessity back to the established and symbolically stingy formats of what you are calling the artworld?

–Brian Holmes, responding to Quitting: a conversation with Alexander Koch on the paradoxes of dropping out

re-jigging around the interruption. a compelling incompleteness. this must be the place.

When you start in-between, what you’re in the middle of is a region of relation. Occurrent relation, because it’s all about event. Putting the terms together, you realize straight away that the relational event will play out differently every time. In repeating, it takes up the past differently. In taking up the past differently, it creates new potentials for the future. The region of occurrent relation is a point of potentiation. It is where things begin anew. Where things begin anew is where they were already present in tendency.

JM: Then what precedes the event? What gives rise to it?
BM: Shock. That’s what Peirce says. Affect for me is inseparable from the concept of shock. It doesn’t have to be a drama. It’s really more about microshocks, the kind that populate every moment of our lives. For example a change in focus, or a rustle at the periphery of vision that draws the gaze toward it. In every shift of attention, there is an interruption, a momentary cut in the mode of onward deployment of life. The cut can pass unnoticed, striking imperceptibly, with only its effects entering conscious awareness as they unroll. This is the onset of the activation I was referring to earlier. I’d go so far as to say that this onset of experience is by nature imperceptible.

This is one way of understanding “microperception,” a concept of great importance to Deleuze and Guattari. Microperception is not smaller perception; it’s a perception of a qualitatively different kind. It’s something that is felt without registering consciously. It registers only in its effects. According to this notion of shock, there is always a commotion under way, a “something doing” as James would say. There is always a something-doing cutting in, interrupting whatever continuities are in progress. For things to continue, they have to re-continue. They have to re-jig around the interruption. At the instant of re-jigging, the body braces for what will come. It in-braces, in the sense that it returns to its potential for more of life to come, and that potential is immanent to its own arising.

It might not sound political, at least in the way it’s usually meant. But it is, because the virtuality is of an event to come, and as we saw before the event always has the potential to affectively attune a multiplicity of bodies to its happening, differentially. Aesthetic politics brings the collectivity of shared events to the fore, as differential, a multiple bodily potential for what might come. Difference is built into this account. Affective politics, understood as aesthetic politics, is dissensual, in the sense that it holds contrasting alternatives together without immediately demanding that one alternative eventuates and the others evaporate. It makes thought-felt different capacities for existence, different life potentials, different forms of life, without immediately imposing a choice between them. The political question, then, is not how to find a resolution. It’s not how to impose a solution. It’s how to keep the intensity in what comes next. The only way is through actual differentiation. Different lines of unfolding bring the contrast into actuality, between them. The political question is then what Isabelle Stengers calls an “ecology of practices.” How do you tend this proliferation of differentiation? How can the lines not clash and destroy each other? How do they live together? The “solution” is not to resolve the tension through a choice, but to modulate it into a symbiosis: a cross-fertilization of capacitations that live out to the fullest the intensity of the event of their coming together.

There’s a certain incompleteness to any micropolitical event, like the events I was talking about. A lot of things that you feel were on the verge of taking shape didn’t quite happen. Potentials that you could just glimpse didn’t come into focus. The goal is not to overcome the incompleteness. It’s to make it compelling. Compelling enough that you are moved to do it again, differently, bringing out another set of potentials, some more formed and focused, others that were clearly expressed before now backgrounded. That creates a small, moveable environment of potential. The goal is to live in that moveable environment of potential. If you manage to, you will avoid the paralysis of hopelessness. Neither hope nor hopelessness—a pragmatics of potential. You have to live it at every level. In the way you relate to your partner, and even your cat. The way you teach a class if you’re a professor. The way you create and present your art if you’re an artist. If you participate in more punctual events like the ones I was describing, this will provide a continuous background for what comes of those events to disseminate into and diffuse through. A symbiosis of the special event and the day-to-day, in creative connivance.

Micropolitics is not programmatic. It doesn’t construct and impose global solutions. But it would be naïve to think that is separate from that kind of macro-activity. Anything that augments powers of existence creates conditions for micropolitical flourishings. No body flourishes without enough food and without health care. Micropolitical interventions need macro solutions. But success at the macropolitical level is at best partial without a complementary micropolitical flourishing. Without it, the tendency is toward standardization. Since macropolitical solutions are generally applicable by definition, by definition they act to curtail the variety and exuberance of forms of life. Macropolitical intervention targets minimal conditions of survival. Micropolitics complements that by fostering an excess of conditions of emergence. That inventiveness is where new solutions start to crystallize. The potentials produced at the micropolitical level feed up, climbing the slope that macropolitics descends. Micropolitical and macropolitical go together. One is never without the other. They are processual reciprocals. They aliment each other. At their best, they are mutually corrective.

It has become a commonplace recently to say that we are in a situation where the end of the world is now imaginable—but the end of capitalism isn’t. That is definitely one “solution” that is not likely to come programmatically, top-down— given who’s on top. The dismantling of capitalism is a “corrective” that will only come from a breaking of the reciprocity I was just talking about between the macro- and micropolitical. The prevailing operating conditions of macro/micropolitical reciprocity should not be taken to imply that the symmetry is never broken, that a bifurcation can never occur. The complementarity can be broken in both directions. When macrostructures miniaturize themselves and work to usurp the ground of the micropolitical with scaled-down versions of the dominant generalities, that is fascism. When micropolitical flourishings proliferate to produce a singularity, in the sense of a systemic tipping point, that’s revolution. The ultimate vocation of micropolitics is this: enacting the unimaginable. The symmetry-breaking point, the point at which the unimaginable eventuates, is but a cut, “smaller” than the smallest historically perceivable interval. That is to say, qualitatively different. A moment of a different color, one you never see coming, that comes when it’s least expected. Inevitably, a next micro/macro complementarity will quickly settle in. But it will take a form that could not have been predicted, but is now suddenly doable and thinkable. Micropolitics is what makes the unimaginable practicable. It’s the potential that makes possible.

–Brian Massumi, Of Microperception and Micropolitics

The Fensiting Community bulletin board announces some very important news for local residents: the Number Five United Meat Factory will be arriving to Xiaojingchang Hutong today, July 5th, from 7:00-11:00 am. If you need meat, you can come buy.

Dousing one’s patio with water helps to beat the summer heat. Brother Zheng (老二) redefines our local radius by improving upon our meagre efforts.

Part and parcel of a response to questions from someone else a while back, part and parcel of what it feels to be rejected, what it feels to be angry, frustrated, unwanted… but maybe, oh maybe, motivated. An all-in-one.

As far as how I frame these projects… it is, to be quite honest, a rather tricky question. When my neighbours know that I am an artist, does anything that I initiate count as “art”? Or, if they have an understanding of “art” to mean oil paintings and wealthy galleries in the 798 arts distict of Beijing, are the things that I do as artist “not really art”? This is an age-old question already, fired off long before Duchamp, before the modernists, before the anything “next”, the non-traditional, the “new”.

Hmm… pretentious? 虚伪?

Last week, her question of the week: “Does ‘alternative’ also mean ‘minority’?”

In regards to such categorization, presentation, or address, I think we can embrace and understand the need for multiplicities of thought and approach. On one hand, this is for me an artistic endeavor, and if asked to explain it theoretically, it seems natural for me to do so, in all my impracticality, from an artistic standpoint. But amidst the sharing of something with someone during the moment of exchange/creation, it also lies beside the point to think about how we should label it. While such labels are important, too, it is in actuality that these are crucial in all places outside of the work itself, e.g., in terms of its marketing, presentation, and documentation.

So where does the ART of the artwork lie? This is a question we can ask of any artist, a la art school 101, but given the current contexts it comes again that one should justify oneself against the concreteness of the “product”. Is this really the case? Amidst the artfulness of the downfall of financial capital, what materialisms must we still rely upon? You might say that domestic interactions in China are less affected by such crisis, but we cannot neglect a reconsideration of where the artfulness of the thing is. (Do we get into a question of virtuosity here?)

Can we talk about transaction anymore these days? If the very nature of the exchange itself should determine the material and form of the artwork, are we talking about economies or aesthetics? What is social work? Is human interaction a question for within a museum, within the public sphere, or within politics? In which one do we participate?

Of an art which is created of such interaction and participation, we look to it as a “third thing”, possibly a positive externality outside of you and I both, but created by you and I. This is not necessarily a clarity of approach. What is 含蓄 is outside and inside, a weaving——containing and embodied yet implicit, veiled. “We give appearance,” he says.

We start to learn and recognize things in one another that we had not noticed before. In our own neighbourhood first, but also by reflecting a global position back onto the local. By adding value to such things that where we had not before, we could consider transaction beyond the monetary, but also not merely as a nostalgia. This is a creative process. There is a social capital and a cultural capital involved here. And maybe——just maybe——we could begin here, at the level of community, to understand the possibilities of a micropolitical capital.

Michael writes to Hu Fang: “We enjoy the space between being ‘in the know’ and simply being attentive to one’s social environment where the unexpected may occur, setting up an interaction that will provide a meaningful communication, ‘loading the decks’.”

[just read this amazing story from the New York Times… it’s an incredible and touching example of very non-digital information networks and mobile intervention! …wonderful…]

LA GLORIA, Colombia — In a ritual repeated nearly every weekend for the past decade here in Colombia’s war-weary Caribbean hinterland, Luis Soriano gathered his two donkeys, Alfa and Beto, in front of his home on a recent Saturday afternoon.

Sweating already under the unforgiving sun, he strapped pouches with the word “Biblioburro” painted in blue letters to the donkeys’ backs and loaded them with an eclectic cargo of books destined for people living in the small villages beyond.

His choices included “Anaconda,” the animal fable by the Uruguayan writer Horacio Quiroga that evokes Kipling’s “Jungle Book”; some Time-Life picture books (on Scandinavia, Japan and the Antilles); and the Dictionary of the Royal Academy of the Spanish Language.

“I started out with 70 books, and now I have a collection of more than 4,800,” said Mr. Soriano, 36, a primary school teacher who lives in a small house here with his wife and three children, with books piled to the ceilings.

“This began as a necessity; then it became an obligation; and after that a custom,” he explained, squinting at the hills undulating into the horizon. “Now,” he said, “it is an institution.”

A whimsical riff on the bookmobile, Mr. Soriano’s Biblioburro is a small institution: one man and two donkeys. He created it out of the simple belief that the act of taking books to people who do not have them can somehow improve this impoverished region, and perhaps Colombia.

In doing so, Mr. Soriano has emerged as the best-known resident of La Gloria, a town that feels even farther removed from the rhythms of the wider world than is Aracataca, the inspiration for the setting of the epic “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel García Márquez, another of the region’s native sons.

Unlike Mr. García Márquez, who lives in Mexico City, Mr. Soriano has never traveled outside Colombia — but he remains dedicated to bringing its people a touch of the outside world. His project has won acclaim from the nation’s literacy specialists and is the subject of a new documentary by a Colombian filmmaker, Carlos Rendón Zipaguata.

The idea came to him, he said, after he witnessed as a young teacher the transformative power of reading among his pupils, who were born into conflict even more intense than when he was a child.

The violence by bandit groups was so bad when he was young that his parents sent him to live with his grandmother in the nearby city of Valledupar, near the Venezuelan border. He returned at age 16 with a high school degree and got a job teaching reading to schoolchildren.

By the time he was in his 20s, Colombia’s long internal war had drawn paramilitary bands to the lawless marshlands and hills surrounding La Gloria, leading to clashes with guerrillas and intimidation of the local population by both groups.

Into that violence, which has since ebbed, Mr. Soriano ventured with his donkeys, taking with him a few reading textbooks, encyclopedia volumes and novels from his small personal library. At stops along the way, children still await the teacher in groups, to hear him read from the books he brings before they can borrow them.

A breakthrough came several years ago when he heard excerpts over the radio of a novel, “The Ballad of Maria Abdala,” by Juan Gossaín, a Colombian journalist and writer. Mr. Soriano wrote a letter to the author, asking him to lend a copy of the book to the Biblioburro.

After Mr. Gossaín broadcast details of Mr. Soriano’s project on his radio program, book donations poured in from throughout Colombia. A local financial institution, Cajamag, provided some financing for the construction of a small library next to his home, but the project remains only half-finished for lack of funds.

There is little money left over for such luxuries on his teacher’s salary of $350 a month. Already the family’s budget is so tight that he and his wife, Diana, opened a small restaurant, La Cosa Política, two years ago to help make ends meet.

Even among the restaurant’s clientele, mainly ranch hands and truck drivers with little formal education, the bespectacled Mr. Soriano sees potential bibliophiles. On the wall above tables laid out with grilled meat and fried plantains, he posts pages from Hoy Diario, the region’s daily newspaper, and prods diners into discussions about current events.

“We can take political talk only so far, of course,” he said, referring to the looming threat of retaliation from the paramilitary groups, which have effectively defeated the guerrillas in this part of northern Colombia. “I learned that if I interest just one person in reading a mundane news item — say, about the rising price of rice — then that’s a step forward.”

Such victories keep Mr. Soriano going, despite the challenges that come with running the Biblioburro.

He fractured his left leg in a fall from one of his burros in July, leaving him with a limp. And some of his readers like the books they borrow so much that they fail to return them.

Two books that vanished not long ago: an illustrated sex education manual, and a copy of “Like Water for Chocolate,” the Mexican writer Laura Esquivel’s novel about food and love in a traditional Mexican family.

And there are dangers inherent to venturing into the backlands around La Gloria. Two years ago, Mr. Soriano said, bandits surprised him at a river crossing, found that he carried almost no money, and tied him to a tree. They stole one item from his book pouch: “Brida,” the story of an Irish girl and her search for knowledge, by the Brazilian novelist Paulo Coelho.

“For some reason, Paulo Coelho is at the top of everyone’s list of favorites,” said Mr. Soriano, hiding a grin under the shade of his sombrero vueltiao, the elaborately woven cowboy hat popular in Colombia’s interior.

On a trip this month into the rutted hills, where about 300 people regularly borrow books from him, he reminisced about a visit to the National Library in the capital, Bogotá, where he was stunned by the building’s immense collection and its Art Deco design.

“I felt so ordinary in Bogotá,” Mr. Soriano said. “My place is here.”

At times, on the remote landscape dotted with guayacán trees, it was hard to tell whether beast or man was in control. Once, Mr. Soriano lost his patience, trying to coax his stubborn donkeys to cross a stream.

Still, it was clear why Mr. Soriano does what he does.

In the village of El Brasil, Ingrid Ospina, 18, leafed through a copy of “Margarita,” the classic book of poetry by Rubén Darío of Nicaragua, and began to read aloud.

She went beyond where the heavens are

and to the moon said, au revoir.

How naughty to have flown so far

without the permission of Papa.

“That is so beautiful, Maestro,” Ms. Ospina said to the teacher. “When are you coming back?”