Inheritance/crypted

codedigitalart, ,

Reaction is emotional
Is it our division with – vegetal – animal – human – nature, that blinds our relationship with the private and public sphere?

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And the wind up in the mountains is whistlingDon‘t you hear the wind yoiking?
Our Mother Earth is speaking: 
— Don’t give me to strange people
But protect me from them
Because this is your mountain
And your river and your lake
Don‘t sell your inheritance
Because it is the biggest inheritance you can leave to your next of kin
Ellen Marit Gaup-Dunfjeld

Can you read it?
Understand what’s the the signification, the hidden meaning of something?
What characterizes our ability to read and understand / translate our environment?
What dictate a unique, hierarchical reading of a picture – of a word?
Encryption is constant and by no means reserved for technical or technological practices. Our vision is coded, as are our emotions and gestures. Apart from a cultural and sociological approach, the practice of coding and encrypting artefacts, in order to hide them or hold them for a specific reading, has been known since the dawn of time. Therefore, the public and private sphere (reserved for a certain group of insiders / guests) is at the centre of attention of contemporary reflection that integrates it as a new aspect.

So what has changed since then?
Is it only the new technologies that are disrupting and presupposing that codes « inhabit » our environment? Is it only “because of” the internet?
What has changed since then?

Reaction is emotional
Is it our division with – vegetal – animal – human – nature, that blinds our relationship with the private and public sphere?

Wildfires, floods or a civil revolution are like decoders of a hidden reality that is waiting to be read, within an environment where the hierarchy of a dominant makes any sharing in a public sphere impossible. A public sphere that seems to be determined solely by manner of communication and media where homogenization is a common denominator and where emotion is only saleable by Punch Lines.
Is it then the real human emotion that is becoming rare? Too coded?

What do we do with these moments… these fears of a collapse, of an apocalypse of humanity, these huge and indescribable joys, these discomforts, these discomforts, these laughter, these reflections, these angers… Can emotion through the body be put back in an important role and no longer to a secondary one? A role where its direct relationship with the body could allow us to relearn to exchange with our environment, instead of dominating it, or suffering from it. But also to reflect – through emotions – where are our cleavages, where are our internal, social and societal codes? Rethinking the emotional body as a reflexive material allowing us to decipher and decode the surrounding reality, in order to recreate a link between a (habitable) place and a body / our body.

To decipher is to make public, it is to give an existence in the act of naming, it is to offer a life to something that was until then hidden. The performance of a body face to an encrypted aspect may be very different in form, but it always makes visible a reality that passes through it – a body that translates an environment, according to its codified private heritage. And it is here that the public meets the private, it is in this that the private nature of each person can make visible, by a gesture of the mind, of the body,… the aesthetics of a life, of a social, geo-political relationship. As if the public composition of a – vegetal – animal – human – nature, should above all find the source of its translation in the composition of a private vision.

We were on the road before most of the other evacuees. Fire crews hadn’t yet responded. My son–wide awake in the back seat, trusting and curious–and I drove alone through ash, smoke, and fire. It seemed for a time, while driving that night, that the entire world had been engulfed in flame, the reassuring structures of civil society–the fire trucks, police, etc.–nowhere to be seen, evaporated like a light morning dew in the firestorm. I had always figured this apocalypse was a slow one, and then, that night, it appeared suddenly in its totality.
Ian Heisters

Original Researches by Ian Heisters / Lara Tabet
Text and research-development by Valérie Félix

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