Friday, November 16, 2007

NEOLIBERALISM

jeder mensch hat das recht auf arbeit auf freie berufswahl auf angemessene und befriedigende arbeitsbedingungen sowie auf schutz gegen arbeitslosigkeit alle menschen haben ohne jede unterschiedliche behandlung das recht auf gleichen lohn für gleiche arbeit jeder mensch der arbeitet hat das recht auf angemessene und befriedigende entlohnung die ihm und seiner familie eine der menschlichen würde entsprechende existenz sichert und die wenn nötig durch andere soziale schutzmassnahmen zu ergänzen ist daher muss es unser oberstes ziel sein den profit unserer aktionäre zu vermehren und alle unnötigen arbeitskraefte zu entlassen die sind ja nur rationalisierungsreserve also brennstoff aber leider leben mehr als 100 millionen menschen in industrieländern unterhalb der offiziellen armutsgrenze und mehr als fünf millionen sind obdachlos jedoch ich sehe dies system und äusserlich ist’s lang bekannt nur nicht im zusammenhang da sitzen welche wenige oben und viele unten und die oben schreien hinunter kommt herauf damit wir alle oben sind aber genau hinsehend siehst du was verdecktes zwischen denen oben und denen unten was wie ein weg aussieht doch ist’s kein weg sondern ein brett und jetzt siehst du’s ganz deutlich ‘s ist ein schaukelbrett dieses ganze system ist eine schaukel mit zwei enden die voneinander abhängen und die oben sitzen oben nur weil jene unten sitzen und nur solang jene unten sitzen und sässen nicht mehr oben wenn jene heraufkämen ihren platz verlassend so dass sie wollen müssen diese sässen unten in ewigkeit und kämen nicht herauf auch müssen’s unten mehr als oben sein sonst hält die schaukel nicht ‘s ist nämlich eine schaukel

[aus: Verinte Nationen, Charta der Menschenrechte (1948); Brecht’s “Die heilige Johanne der Schlachthöfe” und der zur Produktion des gleichnamigen Theaterstuecks im Wiener Akademietheater erschienenen Taschenpostille (1997 )]

ALEXANDER MEDEM
























CAMILLO SPIEGELFELD





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click -"objet trouvé"-
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ERNST SCHWARTZ






Hello

My name is Ian Fisher. I play music, but often I use that music as a cart to carry a message through the ears of listeners too their minds. Due to the fact that the song I recorded to post on this month's blog wouldn't upload to my emails, I will skip the cart this time.

For those of you who don't know about me, I'm from the United States. I thought that I needed to say that in-order to clarify the link between my perspective and neoliberalism. In the US we often hear of neoliberalism in reference to practices that are taking place in other countries (often countries where our governmental/economic elite have tried to impose neoliberal policies to strength the global power of our extreme upper class, but that's beside the point). Though we have played the leading role in the story of neoliberalism, it appears to me as though many Americans are oblivious to it's existence on their-own streets because "liberal" democracy has overtime become so familiar to them that they accept it as common knowledge, or truth, and don't question it. Thus, the stereotypical American personality is the embodiment of liberalism. Thus, a reflection on American civil society and individuals may shed light on the concept itself.

While driving down the wide streets of my country I looked around and started noticing things. A fat suburban woman talking on a cell phone, while cutting me off in an SUV with a Jesus fish plastered to the bumper happened to catch my eye. I couldn't help but image what that woman would have been like one-hundred years ago. I pictured her looking a little older and skinnier with 5 to 7 children speaking German and broken-English on a farm where she worked in the fields from sun up to sun down simply to keep her family and herself alive. I then hung this mental picture next to the soccer mom in front of me and compared the two. I thought about the motives behind their actions. I imaged the woman of one hundred years ago being motivated by the desire to simply survive and provide a better life for her children. I imaged the modern woman, who never went to bed hungry or cold, who never feared her children starving to death, who wants her children's lives to be like hers, as being motivated by increasing her social status and self image. Since her basic needs are fulfilled and the prospect of them not being fulfilled is unimaginable to her, she works not for what she needs, but rather for what she wants. Unfortunately, this woman is not the only person in society wanting more than they need (which is a human tendency, but is extremely harmful to a society that basses its economic structure on greed and over-consumption). Individuals with the ability to increase their level of profit will do so to increase their-own ability to consume. Those who hold the most power in the relationship between the creation of goods and services and the consumption of those goods and services have the ability to decide how profit will be distributed. Since everyone in this relationship wants more, whether it be on the creation side (more pay) or on the consumption side (lower prices), this concentrated group's increased profit margin puts a strain on the entire system. When those who have the power to raise their-own profits do so, the prices of goods and services go up and the profits of those who don't hold power go down. In order to maintain stability, there must be a balance struck between prices and profits. When this is unbalanced the masses become frustrated. In working democratic systems, people's demands are answered by legislation and action on behalf of the government. When those legislations and/or actions threaten the economic elite's power, the elite respond. That response in many modern cases has been neoliberalism, which is an attempt on behalf of the economic elite to weaken institutions that stand the way of them attaining more profit.

To finish my thought about the woman in the SUV, I asked myself a question. What would happen if the ability for her to attain what she wanted feel apart? Would her motivation switch to surviving and providing for her children? Yes. However, I believe her inflated level of wanting would remain. Further more, when/if she fought for change, she would be fighting, to a certain extent, for the return of her ability to consume. Upon her victory, her greed would simply set back in motion the same system that starved her.

I believe that our generation will see the effects of these policies and there will come an awakening. From our past the stage is set. Neoliberalism has burnt our flags, the Internet has untied our tongues, global war and media have broke our crosses, and our fathers' communists have hung themselves in their-own rusted chains. The time of decision is comeing. To continue to fight like cavemen over rocks or to work together and use them to build a new world.

IAN FISHER



























ISIS FRISCH & DIANA FRISCH


























MARKUS MEZNIK






THADDÄUS STOCKERT





Neo-liberals who turn to drink turn conservative in the morning.

Neo-liberally,
I pour wine at table.
Je refuse l'affaire Dreyfus
But accept your scotch with glee.

First I voted with my feet.
Then I voted at the bar.

Come morning, I'm conservative,
Comforted by misty tradition.


MARK BOUSFIELD




































































































PHILLIP SULKE



DIE ÄRGSTEN FEINDE DER FREIHEIT SIND GLÜCKLICHE SKLAVEN

GABRIELA WASSER

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Sunday, September 23, 2007

ART IS MY WEAPON


Ardalan Maher




J.J.T











Stickerinszenierung´s Foto Projekt von:
THST & Alexander Medem







Markus Meznik




http://www.cronk.at/ernst/weapons/
Ernst Schwartz





Camillo Spiegelfeld

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Friday, July 27, 2007

I hate myself / I love myself

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click - love and hate
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Ernst Schwartz und Diana Frisch


















Markus Meznik




use headphones

Thaddäus Stockert





















Ian Fisher




Isis Frisch & Julian Horn























Ardalan Maher

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Safe and Secure

Changing Speeds

She in her room


Waking as always some minutes before the alarm sounds, she stretches fluidly - first she kicks her legs to dispatch the covers down-bed and frees her feet; at the same time her arms reach up and out, rolling thin wrists towards her full length, she arches her toes and back, belly taut, and is splayed out; without stopping she springs upright, stands and takes a step, one hand working her t-shirt from her torso and the other pulling her knickers towards the floor; with a kick and flick, they arrive in the room's corner.

Dressed and stepping out the apartment, she points her key at the door still in motion, and sets off down four flights - 3rd floor: neighbours, 2nd floors: acquaintances, 1st floor: only strangers left - to the house door whose glass panels give onto the street, and she thrusts another key at another lock, freeing a navy blue pram from its lock; she pumps the cushions that pass for a baby at first sight and high speeds, aligns this pram up for an uninterrupted exit, takes a composing breath and for reassurance chirps, "Safe and secure".

He in his room

The alarm is bellicose and persistent. He lies motionless. Certain people are silent when they moan. He moans like he's yawning, and blinks. He tests the warmth outside the covers with a hand, and then an arm. It's colder. Between statis and progress, one foot emerges; its toes curl, and the alarm sounds anew. Then peace and renewed movement. Currents of fresher air make new contact with his flesh: his flanks, his legs, and as he rolls over, his back. He sits up slowly, hugging the still willing duvet to his shoulders.

Shoes and coat, pulled on over body parts warmer but less free. Key in hand, he pulls the apartment door to. It exhales and he turns the lock. He counts the 34 steps to the ground floor, taking a breath on each, and his hand on the banister invites friction. He pauses before the house door to whisper his augur, "Safe and secure."

She and He on the street

Trouble, they both believe, travels at four miles an hour at street level; since they had both met trouble before, they changed speeds - she sped up and would walk all day, making the white blankets inside the pram jump and leap like white horses on the sea, turning heads and attracting tuts as she roved from pavement to road to roadside, on a mission not to stop. He slowed down and would seek shelter in libraries and dis-favoured cafés, he sunk his shoulders, dipped his head and dropped his gaze, reduced his gait to a scrape, wearing greens and greys in anonymity, and keeping the air from his neck with a scarf.

She and He meet

On the day they met, she careered around a corner he was approaching from the other direction, and they collided. He fell beneath her wheels.

He hopped in collapse.
She waved and wailed.
His moan made noise.

She, fearful of attention and pacing in circles, wrung her hands. He, lying prostrate with eyes closed, clutched his injured flesh. She bundled him onto the pram like a road-kill and swept him away. He was happy to leave the cold floor. She jingled him home. He heaved up her stairs.

--

In time - though slower, though faster – they set about whispering their charms together in the morning: “Safe and secure” and out the door! She would push him with caution, he would nod in his customised carriage as they sailed around trouble.

In bed, under the covers, when they loved one another, he in newfound frenzy stabbed her like a knife, and she lay stock still.

Mark Bousfield





Isis Frisch/Gulliver Frisch





Franziska Mayr-Keber/Johanna Mayr-Keber



Save and Secure

Raphael Stein





Phillip Sulke



short story

Ernst Schwartz





Camillo Spiegelfeld




Matthias Kundt





Thaddäus Stockert





Tizia Barci





Clemens Kazda





Christoph Baldinger





Leopold Schmertzing





Phoebe Frisch/Gulliver Frisch/Nicola Skalé





Ardalan Maher

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Bridging the Gap


Dorian Gaeta






Ardalan Maher




Ernst Schwarz




Koen Vanmechelen




Christoph Baldinger




Johanna Mayr-Keber









Thaddäus Stockert





Phillip Sulke





Martin Karaca





Camillo Spiegelfeld