The concept of the a a a a aaaaaa narc hive was firstly created in a moment of struggle with the archival procedures of the work done by and with Senselab during more than a decade. The challenge was how to deal with past events through a non-representational archive of recordings of audio and video, pictures, textiles, texts, software, etc. The a a a a aaaaaa narc hive, as Erin Manning says, is not the recording of a form but "passes through form", it's "not documentation but a feeding form mechanism that needs documentation". How to deal both with the intensity and multiplicity of the archives and their fever – “to run after the archive, even if there's too much of it, right where something in it anarchives itself. It is to have a compulsive, repetitive, and nostalgic desire for the archive, an irrepressible desire to return to the origin, a homesickness, a nostalgia for the return to the most archaic place of absolute commencement” (Derrida 1995: 57). The concept of the archive in the manner developed by Derrida already carries an a a a a aaaaaa narc hive potential that needs to be remodulated. It's supplemental, across platforms and it "carries lures that activate further processes", "techniques for process making engines."
In Heart of a Dog, Laurie Anderson does an a(na)rcheological scavenging from years of images, videos and audio clips of her deceased rat terrier, Lolabelle. It is a non-linear/chronological montage film, a media a a a a aaaaaa narc hive or collage - but any mediatic artifact, we must agree, is already a multimodal a a a a aaaaaa narc hive. The three events that activated her work are the deaths of her mother, dog and very good friend, the NYC site-specific artist Gordon Matta Clark. It is precisely the first piece of artwork - the spectral figure of Lolabelle - that later would be incorporated into the film project. Laurie Anderson’s charcoal drawings entitled Forty-Nine Days in the Bardo, exhibited during her multimedia performance Animal Stories, depicted the transient experience of Lolabelle in the “Bardo”. Tibetan Buddhists believe that, when humans die, they enter the intermediate Bardo state, from which they will be reborn as a human or other creature unless they achieve Nirvana, where they are beyond all states of embodiment (Lee 2017: 38). Bardo can also be translated as a “transitional, in-between or liminal state.” (39). Before the dogs' travel to the Bardo, we see the process of her dog becoming blind and dying and scenes like Lolabelle playing piano to an audience in a party just after getting completely blind.
Figure xx: "Lola in the Bardo”. Charcoal on paper 10'4" x 14'4" (Photo: Carlos Avendano)
Before that sensorial reorganization, Lolabelle had a previous shifting as she realized that her gaze-way of walking orientation changed due to the ’discovery' of the world in 360 degrees, when she went to California mountains with Laurie aiming to escape the absolute surveillance of the archive post 9/11. There she saw eagles approaching her as pray. Some minutes before a voice-over monologue opened up a new narrative line that would transverse the entire film. New gaze orientations were activated after 9/11. Like her rat terrier, we learned to look up to the sky waiting for rogue planes and terrorist attacks - one must agree that war zones in non-western civilization are already used to this. Like eagles’ wide angle/super high-resolution vision, every place has a surveillance camera, an issue already exhaustively discussed by scholars. Laurie Anderson’s movie aims not only to speculate on what happened, but also what could have happened through what we call fabulatory techniques. She put Go-Pro cameras in other rat terriers after Lolabelle’s death and cellphone videos of those dogs, physically similar to Lolabelle. We do not know which one is Lolabelle. It is part of the fabulatory power of the false. “When Deleuze says we must invent our own intercessors, what he also means is that we are never wholly ourselves” (Manning in Bordeleau, et al 2017: 15), especially when confronting otherness. Anderson a a a a aaaaaa narc hives Lolabelle’s recorded video/audio/picture memories creating a narrative that moves through traces, spectres of fear, traumas (9/11) and mourning. Alanna Thain discusses the potential of the fabulation, via Deleuze’s Cinema 2 book:
Deleuze realizes that there is no need to “blow up” representation, because it has already failed. What we need now are reasons to believe in the world. Flaxman cites Cinema 2 to explain how the powers of the false affirm the generative force of creativity itself: “Affirmation is itself a creative act: ‘to believe is to affirm the powers of fabulation, for only when we affirm the power to ‘make-false’ (faire-faux) do we surpass the true and the false and undertake the whole transformation of belief” (Thain 2017: 33)
(A brief Spinozist parenthesis
Unfair as it seems - to take one proposition from the web of concepts and the geometrical thought developed in Ethics, we would like to quote the following statement made by the philosopher: “By the very fact that we conceive a thing, which is like ourselves, and which we have not regarded with any emotion, to be affected with any emotion, we are ourselves affected with a like emotion (affectus)” (Spinoza, Ethics, Part III, Prop. XXVII). Spinoza's semiotic of affects is certainly a very powerful framework to understand the contemporary range of affects that relies on the ontopower regime of distribution of affects and prehensions (including pre-emptive alerts), but we feel that there is something missing; people are missing, and neurodiverse chains of affects may not correspond to its ingenious constitution. Neurodiverse bodies need tiny decolonized ontologies, just like the non-human bodies that can leave the door open to the entrance of the schizz, or in another words, the creative cut. Those bodyminds (or bodyings) usually do not produce the expected outcomes that conform to a specific politics of distribution of bodies and their reactions captured by external evaluative gaze, at least not in a linear fashion. We do not aim to make Spinoza neurodiverse, but to let fabulation enter into the concatenation of affects - imagination and its potential is a very present theme in Spinoza’s ontological system, made explicit at least two hundred times across Ethics, but maybe we’re too used to another Spinoza (and there are many and multiple Spinozas). We do not aim to enter into this realm intensively, just to point out the necessity of tiny systems that can respond to the power of the false, or the potential of speculation (contra the power of the pre-emptive fear). WE MADE PEACE WITH INADEQUATE IDEAS.
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Lolabelle’s new optical orientation is constrained by ubiquitous surveillance, grief and fear, but to affirm that can look like a tricky attempt to reinforce human politics into with animal bodies. Laurie Anderson exposes the materiality of archives, before and post 9/11, commenting on gigantic structures that store data collected via surveillance systems in cities’ outskirts, sometimes under the ground, protected from extreme weather conditions. Another example of a kind of a physical data centre that could be part of Laurie’s film, although with notably different purposes, is the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, located in the Svalbard Archipelago (Norway) in the North Arctic 1300 kilometres from the North Pole - if I am blessed by the gods of funding and airfares, a second phase of this project (2019-2020) will involve both a film and a fabulatory fiction that takes place if not in Svalbard, through Svalbard's wandering ghosts of a future not-yet actualized but already dispatching sensorial packages addressed to this actual multiverse. The Svalbard Global Seed Vault is an archive ready to be anarchived after the process of mass extinction caused by climate change and other effects that may arise from the Anthropocene.
The Svalbard Global Seed Vault, located in Spitzbergen, Norway, is a meta-archive of the roughly 200 global seed banks. It stores seeds from all plants currently available in a nuclear-safe vault. The Svalbard Vault was built in view of the possible scenario of rebuilding the world food supply after some kind of civilization-ending catastrophic event. Until that time, the seeds are not be touched or used. Along similar lines, one could think of an archive as a storage device for cultural meaning in view of post-apocalyptic reconstruction efforts. While some archives tend to develop policies that go in this direction and strongly curtail the circulation of films, archives can also be seen as resources for contemporary cultural production. (Campinini, Hediger and Bayer 2018: 80)
An anarchival film about Svalbard, fictional or documental, wouldn’t even necessarily requires its filming in the seed vault facilities, neither testimonies of people who constructed the building, but a diving into the fabulatory cartography of events that emerge around it, or in parallel to the physical structure, the address where NGOs and governmental entities send the seeds of the species to be preserved after the end of this world – or which world?
Both examples of actual archives (that aren’t more real than the archives of fabualtion) oppose what Agostinho (2006, p. 442) calls the “fantasies of dematerialization” sustained by the myth of obsolescence of physical media apparatuses. Like the Campinas bank complex that could be filled with bodies of aliens and extraterrestrial technology Area51 alike, the “physical” archive is only hidden and inaccessible, giving the illusion that everything floats on clouds existing under an ethereal reality, feeding myth-makers.
Other exponents of the “anarchival cinema" that aim to explore hidden layers of the archival construction of the typical experiences of a city or territory can be discussed. Allana Thain analyses works of Canadian director Guy Maddin. My Winnipeg, a “walking film” composed of layers of media archive and the city’s architecture, like Georges Perec’s tentative to exhaust a place in Paris through descriptions divided by many layers, doing a “diagram of that city shot through at every level with the uncanny liveliness of the media archive” (Thain 2010: 65). His style is defined by “his typical plundering of stylistic archives [...] mapped onto what he calls “docu-fantasia” of his own life and milieu” (Ibid.). Maddin works through murmurs “emerged in the superposed mappings of city and self via cinema” (66); traces of the past that leak into the presentness but aren't themselves exhibited as proper defined historical pieces.
Deleuze’s argument of the powers of the false, developed in Difference and Repetition and Cinema II books, bears strong relations with temporality. In the past, everything is true, it already is and was. But is it future or is it past? To fabulate is to bring back many of those ghostly pasts into narrative again, without aiming to establish a formal and predicative truth. Which past is true and which is false? That doesn’t matter, since the anthropotechnically constructed man wants the absolute truth in order to find culprits and judge them. The movement that has to be done is to ask if an ethical technique of co-conjuring can bring them back?
Works of Maddin and Deborah Stratman (The Illinois Parables) propose to a a a a aaaaaa narc hive cities and environments through speculative exercises acting upon an excess of recovered clips and pictures. They can be viewed as a response to the pertinent question posed by Frederik Tygstrup (2016: 97) “by the beginning of the 21st century, these media of speculation seem to have reached a point of excess”, creating the necessity to “diagnose the fate of fiction in an age of hypertrophied speculation”, with whom we refer the abundance of archive material as exemplified and used by Laurie Anderson, speaking about the physical archives built to shelter the servers and hard disks that host the files of the government, not denying the speculative propositions that circulate as memes, fake news alerts, etc. Grønstad speak about physical archives in terms of the nature as an archive, analyzing Patricio Guzmán’s El Botón de Nacar (2015), a film that reflects upon the never found bodies of people killed by the Chilean government during its military dictatorship period. We could also add to that the overproduction of content by some platforms, mostly user-generated, that makes it as impossible to roll a page until its end, as reading all its topics because of the instantaneous production of excessive responses, emitted by humans or bots - for example a thread in 4chan or the main page of Pandlr’s message board (more to come about this platform in the next paragraphs). There’s always an operation of selection, even when it looks like purely contingent; randomly skipping some posts in the thread or picking an aleatory card on the Rolodex after some spinning. Both archiving and anarchiving act through procedures of selection. The latter considers the actual reality and agency of what was left aside or ghosted, not as every single piece of content that must be analyzed and catalogued (the megalomaniac gesture of the pleroma-obsessed oriented) but considering communities of virtual or tiny entities that carry packages of affect-pokers.
Stratman's filmography is developed through anarchival procedures. From her early films and passing through works like Village, Silenced (2012), a short documentary developed using material from the British propaganda film The Silent Village (1943), directed by Humphrey Jennings, about a German occupied mining village in Czech Republic. She focused on modes of mediatic convocations through the use of the sound (or the silencing of minoritarian voices). On The Illinois Parables, Deborah Stratman used newspapers and found footage of Illinois’ cities mixed with 16mm documentary shot by herself, still pictures, documents from public libraries, to develop twelve parables about cross-historical events that happened in the state of Illinois (US). Defined by critics as “a dense collage of references and viewpoints” (Pattison 2016), it begins with the expulsion/relocation of aboriginal people when white colonizers arrived. We are not trying to resuscitate the question between “fiction vs. reality” - if we would enter the domain of this discussion we could say that we aim something like what Mark Fisher (2018) and CCRU coined as ‘theory-fiction’, but to see the potential of the spectres in politics and film/photography-making, the powers of the false, or fiction as method, a (non)method that puts artfulness into the agencements of daily life, reaching something that Vilém Flusser would call "reality as fiction". Each parable begins in a predetermined SPAZE-EEE-EEE and time of Illinois. In the first one, we see images of an old map of Cahokia, a pre-Columbian settlement from 600 to 1400 C.E. Its populational peak reached over 40.000. A Shaman plays an ancestral instrument and dances on top of the city ruins, the place to which he goes to reconnect with his ancestors. As Viveiros de Castro says, the Shaman's rattle is her particle accelerator, capable of opening and closing wormholes, or at least putting him in contact with the affects memetically transferred through generations. The second one is supposed to be settled in Alton, 1673. As Blizek says, an infographic shows that the we are supposed to watch a footage from centuries ago, but we see present day signs of “deer attacks” (2016: 02). "In 1673, however, it was our task to live in harmony with nature. When we did not live in harmony with nature the deer attacked. The time is out of joint. The message is that we have not yet learned this lesson and our failure to learn it puts us at risk.” “The deer will attack.” The Illinois Parables deals with a traumatic past of displacement, slavery and consuming natural resources looking for a future with fabulatory potential that grows from the ghostly traces of other eras, which resonates with previous works of the director, aiming to prompt a people yet to come. “The deer will attack” - causality is not linear, thus cross-temporal, since elements from other eras still prevail in our times living with the new dangers brought by the exhaustion of this world made by the anthropotechnical aim to control. This text is neither linear and each repetition produces a new iteration or cartographic layer under Deborah’s fabulatory map-filming. Dislocating (or spectrally disjointing) past and future, this kind of work acts as pieces of resistance to traditional forms of temporality that are imposed, as well the linear archive organizations (if that is even possible). It is also the role of audiovisual processes that can be characterized as Afro and Gulf or Sino Futurism to “unhinge existing temporal schemes and complexify already existing regimes of time as forms of power” (Parikka 2017: 05).
Figure xx: The seedbank as archive: Svalbard globale frøhvelv. Image courtesy by Dag Terje Filip Endresen (2008). Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0).
Using pamphlets and old tabloids filled with folkloric narratives like menaces of spiritual hauntings and multiple supposed cases of SHC (spontaneous human combustion), the main character (if applicable) of her film not is Illinois per se, or the actual state (and also the actual state!), but the fabulatory map that is constituted by layers of perspectives. Or, better explained, not a mapping of the American state, but fabulatory and political cartographies that can be traced to ages before colonization and the entrance into the Anthropocene as a key element; as if this topological map was drawn connecting the dots of the spectres that inhabit Illinois (what today is known as Illinois). Ghostly cartographies. It also informs us that the first nuclear chain reaction took place in Illinois in 1942. For the film, it is considered as an event that changed the event’s (state of things, assemblage, or, not a synonym, the ecology) perspective forever, as Souriau would say. Some places, people say, still show a strange level of radiation more than eight decades after the incident. Narratives that relate the nuclear energy war experiments to a major changing of the state of things (besides the actual explosion and the visible destruction brought by it) are somewhat common. As if they were capable to put the world out of joint. In the eighth episode of the third and highly fabulatory/spectral season of Twin Peaks (2017), the nuclear explosion provoked an imbalance of power between different dimensions that allowed some entities to navigate through rifts and invade other realities. It is the case of Judy, a powerful and evil spectre that flew from the Black Lodge to our reality along with its ally Bob, a ghost-like creature that uses human beings’ bodies to kill and pursue his mischievous desires (see figure x) - it is not by chance that David Lynch’s status as the “filmmaker of the dream world” brought to his film scripts ideas that appeared during sessions of in depth Tibetan meditation, and that the unified subject defying entity of the doppelgänger is one of the key-marks of late Lynchian cinema. Some could agree that those entities that cannot be directly seen with bare eyes, but have a huge causal role in the actualization of the world (as the global warming), could be seen as spectres or what Timothy Morton (2013) calls “Hyperobjects”. They can, for sure, produce a spectral effect, and accepting them with unconditional hospitality, as Derrida opposes conditional hospitality, cannot be understood as an unconditional acceptance of their fulfilment through the path of ultimate acceleration, but as their virtual traces that already haunt the future. "As Land remarks of hyperstitial: "Just because it's not 'real' now, doesn't mean it won't be real at some point in the future. And once it's real, in a sense, it's always been".
Figures xx and xx: screenshots from The Illinois Parables
The question again is how to keep the fabulation alive and propose playful/mischievous modes of existence in a world that sees the two of its biggest menaces as misinformation and the staggering effects that it can produce (and it’s already done). My guess is that one exercise I can propose involves a, alluding to Alfred Jerry, pataphysical ethics of acceptance (non-judgmental amor fate) and hos(ti)pitality of the spectral potential despite its dangerousness. We must reassure, though, that this is not the same as a “reflexive impotence”, a term used by Mark Fisher to describe a state of things in which people agree that things are failing and there’s not so much left to be done, it’s impossible to change them. The conditions for changing, we aim, are already present in the spectral qualities of failures and non-actualized (or virtual) states of things, including the techniques already being used.
Figure x: a previous draft of the neurodiverse adventures of dougie jones (Inflexions: diversity in diversity)
Stratman points out a myriad of figures that interests her in the form and editing of her movies, like “intervals, gaps, holes, circuits and loops” (Stratman, 2014). The last one, she argues, is related to a paranoid feeling that emerged after 9/11 and mass surveillance: “layers of fabrication, layers of control” (Ibid.), resonating with Heart of a Dog's comments on surveillance. As we pointed above, works like hers and the films of Guy Maddin are interested in the process of anarchiving cities, and an a a a a aaaaaa narc hive explicitly involves what is not there: what was there but is not anymore, what is not there but can in the future, or what is there is no guarantee that it is there. “Fascism produces singularities that retell stories of belonging, that create regressive attachments” (Manning 2012: 53). I should add, fascism tells histories with very clear ancestral beginnings, and with very clear endings. All that is in between suffers a process of intense retconning. “Fascism predicts the ending and moves toward it, suicidally” (Ibid.). By all means, if we assume that history is a social and biased construct, what remains is the spectral mischievousness of fabulation - “questioning facticity” (Ibid.)-, targeting and using those gaps as a storytelling - and I have big objections with this word - device. A gap can be “a gap between a thing and its name, sound and image” (Stratman 2014). As any anarchival practice should run, she states that we should, instead of recognizing the advantage of what is, “recognize the usefulness of what isn’t, what is not there”. Agreed! Although, I would add - we should recognize the uselessness of what still isn’t and maybe will be. Phantom eels are missing and then submersed spectres of anthropocenic sinkholes start to disjoint daily life in a community settlement. “Unintentional aspirant to the conditions of cinema, a sinkhole is fundamentally an edit in the landscape. Terrestrial features, intimating an incremental, geological time, they can also be sudden, cataclysmic events. As with caves, sinkholes are living organisms, with “bloodstreams and respiratory systems, infections and infestations”.
(…) the force of fabulation, a telling poised at the limit of articulation, a telling, as one character explains, of a past “not in my system.” Fabulation is about the event, the event of time: fabulation is not the telling of a narrative in the form of the “what was,” but the expression of “the act of legending.” is act creates not a truth but an opening onto the aberrant movement of time where the surface of the film itself begins to “ fiction,” to “legend” or fabulate, where the character (the surface) begins to “fabulate without ever being fictional” and where the filmmaker cannot but “‘intercede himself ’ from the real characters who wholly replace his own fiction through their own fabulations” (Deleuze 1991, 150; translation modified in Manning 2012: 44)
(Pause. trying to anarchive a piece of PhD thesis
Charlie Brooker, The Guardian’s journalist famous for creating the television series Black Mirror, used to present his retrospective at the end of each year. In December 2014, along with the airing of its Charlie Brooker’s 2014 Wipe, a segment was shown of a not-yet-released (at the time) documentary entitled Bitter Lake, created and directed by Adam Curtis. The segment, presented as a short film, Oh Dearism II - Non Linear Warfare, narrated by the British documentarist, tries to explain what “non-linear warfare”, a term created in a short story by Nathan Dubovitsky, is. Firstly presenting a myriad of enunciations that hit us during that year through occidental mainstream media, like Ebola, ISIS (Islamic State), Ukraine, Syria, decapitations, pedophilia scandals, claims that those topics were so exhausted by language and the spreading of fake news - a term not yet popularized at the time, elected the word of the year in 2016 by Oxford Dictionaries following the election of Donald Trump and the allegations that it was influenced by Russian state-funded bots that spread non-verified news through social networks - apparently couldn’t mean anything anymore, in a sense they could not be believed. The only gesture that can be done being confronting with those enunciations and images is to say “Oh, Dear”. This incessant production of truths that seem to be the same, but only with different vectorial directions (cf. Deleuze 2004), happening at an absurd speed, is a “power strategy that makes every opposition constantly confuse”. Besides the known allegations on Curtis about his work acting itself a kind of conspiracy-theorists attractor and sensationalist, and his exhaustively repetitive formula, it’s interesting to see some of his arguments, in order to further develop a well-established difference between fake news and fabulation (or what we call fab news). In an informational war (that may include a cultural war), the “objective is not to win the battle, but to use the conflict to create a constant state of destabilized perception”, making it easier to be modulated. Curtis blames Vladislav Surkov, an advisor of Vladimir Putin, for helping to create this state of perceptual disorder, using techniques that come from his avant-garde art and theatre academic background, applied to economics and politics. Besides these simplistic affirmations and relations, that came after the Brexit referendum, we can’t deny that misunderstanding is one of the best partners of diagrammatic control. What we would like to capture from this piece is the following utterance by a journalist quoted in the film: “a ceaseless shapeshifting, unstoppable, because it’s undefinable”. Fabulous news aim to work besides the dichotomy of 'truth' and 'fake news', and it takes into consideration that “behind the term post-truth there is the implicit assertion that there was once a time “pre" post-truth, a time in which politics hewed more closely to a reality taken to be objective, a fixed set of memories that should stuck and produce stuckness on us, reneging that "memory on the making is the activation of the power of the false that re-creates the present through a complete remix of fabulation and pasties beyond any notion of true" (Manning 2012: 84). “Taking a long historical view allows us to see that there are precedents to the current situation that complicate the narrative of a pre-post-truth world." (Shaw and Reeves-Evison 2018: 26). Last but not least, "fabulation is not a negative, reactionary telling, but that which actively resists punitive judgments that are driven by social and historical norms. It is a legending process that in falsifying normative, majoritarian predilections affirms thinking and living life as a creative force" (Garoian 2018: 192). It feeds from and towards the Nietzschean powers of the false, what is minimal, non-actualized or non-recognized by ontological systems of knowledge and perceptions, like the spectral qualities that were forgotten but that keep being felt.
Deleuze’s powers of the false finds its corollary in what Nietzsche has described as the will to power. That is, the powers of the false are an affirmation of the unthought or what otherwise might be called the virtual. This affirmation of the virtual is not simply oriented to what is and what everyone already knows, since, in Deleuzian terms, the virtual is real without being actual. More adequately, the virtual is the unthought or plastic force through which a thing might enter into relation with what it is not. It is the potential of difference or, put differently, a force of deterritorialization through which the actual might be metamorphosed. (Wallin 2011: 107)
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Our proposition works through two different approaches. After analyzing both movies and establishing relations within their minor companions, we aim to discuss spectrality and a a a a aaaaaa narc hive in digital cinema archives like KG [name suppressed to protect its users and staff]. Or, instead of discussing them we will use them to mine qualities and contents for our anarchival film project, constituted of found footage and exercises of conjuration for boring evenings [or how to stay upside down for four hours]. One of the issues with the expression "mining'’ is that sometimes it presupposes the extraction of something from a certain environment. For example, I take this rock from the beach and take it to another place, which is not per se problematic unless it's done in massive scale. And what the fuck is massive scale for you.The second part is the development of a video piece that resonates with the blob-≋ world-building distribution. We believe, however, that according to the contemporary screen ecologies, the manners in which individuals relate to archives and spectres from the (sometimes, very near) past, is charged with the adoption of a fast transmutation of contents into new images or videos, crowded with references and quick shots/cuts, something that certainly has already been extensively analyzed by works on remix culture. Instead, an audiovisual process that aims to deal with spectres that still haunt us and to fabulate over the surplus or plethora, without seeking to construct a piece based on a pleroma. This fabulation can, for example, neglect stimuli excesses and velocity, appealing to slowness and other plane velocities. This is valid both to recovered images or the ones we aim to film. There’s an ethics in form (cf. Grønstad 2016). An ethical gesture would allow that disparate gaze speeds live together in an ecology of perspectives, as Viveiros de Castro or Souriau would say, against the preponderance of a rapid gaze and planes in media/screen ubiquity environments.
Also, being a research-creation proposition that aims to create an audiovisual piece, we shall establish some enabling constraints (Manning and Massumi: 2014). I) Following Grønstad ethical discussion against the scopic entelechy, the work must be made giving screen to multiple minor visualities, not (necessarily) human, following what Massumi (2014: 35) denominates a “mutual inclusion of at least two non-coinciding perspectives”. II) Promote an ecology of velocities (of gaze, planes, gestures, etc.); what should be, for example, a spectral gaze, or one that makes voices of tiny existences (as the phantasmal body of the resurrected or the invisible traces of the failure) resonate? III: (An) archival work is done not only by addition and excess but also by subtracting from the plethora. IV) The piece must be processual, and some propositions may not be realized, if felt, for example, that there is more appetite for filming with the own apparatus than selecting and retrieving material from the archives before mentioned. V) To do it collectively.