Saturday, September 25, 2010

Being a Critic causes you to be critical...DUH!

In the midst of a research binge on architecture critics, from the journalistic to the academic, there has been a common thread I have been realizing within all: I am critical about being critical.

You see, sentences like that are what I am dismantling and over-analyzing, time and time again. What the fuck do they mean? Have I internalized my theoretical influences to the point I can no longer enjoy text and only read into subtexts? There we go again, what the fuck am I talking about?

Three questions in 2 minutes makes me think that I might as well not bother writing this, but in the ever changing landscape of my style, theoretical ideals, and concepts, I have found solace in self awareness. I am guessing here that I want a text that speaks to me in two ways: the conversational and off the cuff, as well ass the theoretical and hard to swallow. Is that too much to ask? (In that last question I even thought the cadence of the sentence was nice.)

You know there was a time when someone wanted me to think of myself as a Miami bro and not a critic. Although that was eons ago, I think of the weight of that polar opposition (seeminlgy polar and not very, to be honest). I like that I can bro-it-up with my friends who have no idea what the term 'context' means, but know very well what a situation and influence are. I like that there is a level of understanding inherent in all aspects of society and I like writing right around that area, but I have realized that I am not REALLY doing that.

Reading critics makes you realize that who they are writing for is as important as what they're writing about, which is of course overstated, but I forget that constantly. So that leads me to my point: since I am writing as a critic I have to be even more critical of myself as much as anything I read, digest, or see. I think that this is of course possible with a level of self awareness and a modesty about your writing, as well as a humbleness, i.e. things I struggle with all the fucking time.
(P.S. on the i.e., I just realized that I have been using i.e. instead of e.g. (i.e. I have been using for example instead of 'in other words'. BAM! There is your literary lesson for the day.)

So I again find myself at the end of my post and I am purposefully not doing some witty ending. So there you go. MUNCH on that motherfuckers.

Friday, September 17, 2010

update 1.0

School has been amazing. The criticism program here is more than I could have imagined. I fit in very well within it and yet there is still so much room to move and think. There are no blinders or methodologies imposed on you and you are allowed to explore. It's a fucking dream come true.

READ Dave Hickey. Please.

ANyways, Chicago rules. My apartment is coming together. I am only missing some stuff, but little by little I have been dumsptering amazing shit. I was telling my mom the other day that it's nice having the freedom and solitude to get acquainted with one's self again. You would think after so much babble about self awareness and independence that I would have gotten acquainted with 'myself' already, but I must prescribe a remedy if you find it hard to do. Imposed distance from your own life is one way of doing this. Some people find it hard because of proximity to their everyday and some (like me) distanced ourselves, 1,304 miles in my case, from the norm.

Stir shit up a little and see what you find. If there's nothing under the soot, move on and try to stir it up again.

NO more prescriptions!

MIAMI, peoples should go see Norman Finkelstein on Wed. Sept. 20 @ FIU South.

See you soon!