105: look and see

THIS WEEK: Christina Sharpe, n+1, Olivia Laing

COMMUNITY BOARD

Goodreads / Letterboxd / Instagram / Writers Against the War on Gaza (WAWOG)

• If you’re in New York, the Anthology Film Archives are hosting a series of Palestinian and Palestine-related cinema, “Cinema of Palestinian Return” from May 3-18.

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There is a moment documented in Christina Sharpe’s Ordinary Notes where Sharpe, going to sit in the cafeteria or seating area of a museum (I believe) says hello to a worker, a young black woman, who is cleaning up and the worker does not respond. I cannot find the page this is recounted on so I cannot be exact but basically instead of experiencing humiliation or awkwardness from being ignored (as I would have), Sharpe goes out of her way to catch the woman’s eye and say hello again. They end up talking and the young woman expresses that it is not common that people go out of their way to speak to her, never mind meet her eyes and ask her how she is. I’ll be honest, there’s a little bit of goofiness about the moment. The idea of Sharpe going “Hello, hi, how are you, my name is” just makes me think of that one Daniel Kaluuya scene in Widows.¹ But as awkward as it seems, it is an instance in which Sharpe is exercising “regard,” one of the key ideas in Ordinary Notes. I have been thinking of regard a lot this week and how it feels like something that a lot of us would do well to exercise more. In Ordinary Notes, Sharpe describes regard as “a habit of care. It is the appreciation and esteem. It is the right of repair.” On the podcast, The Maris Review, she says: “And regard is not spectacle, it’s not a gaze. It is a kind of mutuality. I really wanted to think about that kind of mutuality as a kind of practice and ethic that we extend to each other, and that we might extend to each other, that says, I see you.” For Sharpe, looking, glancing over, is not regard, is not witnessing, is not repair. For Sharpe, “I saw…” or “We (re)present…” is not enough. What are the ways we can “see” those we are in community with, whether in our immediate vicinity or far away, that isn’t just about asserting ourselves as conscientious observers? How can we be more deliberate in how we engage with those who we share space with, on the subway, on the street, in a museum, everywhere?

I am still mulling over n+1’s editorial, “Who Sees Gaza?” which I started reading again this morning. It’s an interesting read on the production and proliferation on the “new economy of war imagery,” whether that be the documentation of the targeted destruction of Palestinian life by those experiencing it or the production of propaganda under the guise of “explaining” (”Literally defined as “explaining” in Hebrew (there is a different word for propaganda), hasbara describes a range of efforts to rationalize Israel’s actions to the world.”) The piece is wideranging—it also includes on the discussion of the importance (perhaps) of mainstream and legacy media’s publishing images of the horrors and tragedies of war beyond “half measures like external links and cropping, which let you show and not show at the same time;” as well as how social media allows for the creation of parasocial relationships with victims of genocide who document their experience so as to offer a witness. Two particular quotes that revisiting it this morning has me lingering over:

• “American writers have tried to make sense of the pictures coming out of Gaza by describing what it feels like to look at them.”

• “Unfiltered images of Gaza are most prevalent on the most addictive apps — TikTok, Instagram, X — which people check compulsively in their downtime, and where fantasy beckons. Every ad, every image of business as usual, is a lure to return to the lifestyle universe the app has constellated around you. At the same time, every decision to “engage” with atrocity footage — every like, link, share, or follow — is an invitation to the algorithm to further disrupt the dream. To welcome such unvarnished horror into your oasis of mindless diversion, narcissism, and shopping is, for many, to get more than you bargained for.” There’s something about the phrase “an invitation to the algorithm to further disrupt the dream” that I can’t really pinpoint.

After several weeks of neglect, I finished Olivia Laing’s Funny Weather. I have an interesting relationship with her writing—I’m always interested in what she has to say, but don’t necessarily have a “good” or “enjoyable” experience of reading it. Maybe because I’ve had it on the go for so long but I found that last 10% of the book really uninteresting. The book reviews felt a bit generic. But there was a quote from the essay from the Wolfgang Tillmans that I had to underline, read over and then save to my phone: “If the photograph is a body (vulnerable, in congress, capable of replication, wounding and death), is the body at all like a photograph? Conceived, developed, regarded.”

On Repeat

I have not engaged in Tortured Poets and Taylor Swift “discourse,” though I have obviously been listening to the album (I’ve listened to all 31 songs, in one sitting, three times). Rose Dommu’s take is exactly correct. I loved RAFTM Hunter Harris’s conversation with Gossip Time’s Allie Jones about Tree Paine and Swift lore. I don’t think I can read any more or talk about it because I start sounding fanatic when I do. My immediate favorite is obviously “Florida!!!” (I don’t play when it comes to Florence and the Machine). Songs I purposely go out of my way to listen to: “Down Bad” (the gym line always makes me think of her Apple Music ad with Drake); “The Tortured Poets Department” (sorry but when she sings, “No-fucking-body” that is enough for me); “But Daddy I Love Him” (pleaseeeeee she is so funny); and her we’re-the-daughters-of-the-witches-you-could-not-burn anthem, “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” (the “mad woman” redux).

I thought I was becoming a Chappell Roan fan but maybe I only like three songs (“Casual;” “Good Luck Babe!” and “Pink Pony Club”)? I’ve been loving the new Vampire Weekend, Only God Was Above Us. It reminds me of their Modern Vampires of the City, one of the few albums I’ve actually bought in my entire life. “Mary Boone” especially sounds like “Ya Hey” and I love how much it sounds like hanging out on the corner with a group of friends. In between all of this, I have been listening to Cowboy Carter (duh!) which is the better Post Malone feature this year (including his appearance in This Is Me…Now). If “LEVII’S JEANS” wasn’t so good, I might hate Beyoncé for making me briefly BRIEFLY find Post Malone attractive but she is forgiven.

1. I think RAFTM Jessica Kasiama was the first person to make this observation, actually.