What is more important (...) is not so much to defend a culture whose existence has never kept a man from going hungry, as to extract, from what is called culture, ideas whose compelling force is identical with that of hunger. (Antonin Artaud, The Theater and Its Double)
Thanks to art, instead of seeing a single world, our own, we see it multiply (...). (Gilles Deleuze, Proust and Signs)
For me powerful is the one who discovers the insignificances (of the world and ours). For this little sentence they praised me as an imbecile. I was thrilled. I'm weak for compliments. (Manoel de Barros, Tratado Geral das Grandezas do Ínfimo)
Food production and food consumption concentrate on themselves a series of questions that feed our contemporaneity, nourishing even what became known as the Anthropocene, an informal geologic chronological term that, in its multiple iterations as a concept, marks the evidence and the extent of human activities that have had a significant global impact on the Earth’s ecosystems.
Not by chance, agribusiness, monoculture and livestock farming are some of the human activities that most affect and transform the planet, and their implications can be seen all around the globe, being deforestation, biodiversity decrease, water pollution, and soil exhaustion the most common ones, especially in Brazil, where we can also see the rising violence against indigenous peoples and traditional communities in the last years .
In strict relation to those questions emerged Restauro – or Restoration –, a proposition from the Brazilian artist Jorge Menna Barreto for the 32nd São Paulo Art Biennial – Live Uncertainty, 2016 – that, for the first time, integrated the restaurant of the Biennial Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park to the curatorial frame of the exhibition, which made Restoration to born as a hybrid project: artwork-restaurant, restaurant-artwork.
Through themes such as multispecies assemblages, land art, plant-based food and food activism, the project investigated the possible relations between agroecology and site-specific practices in art, formulating not only questions about the construction of our eating habits and their relationship with the environment, with climate and with life on the planet, but also proposing an awakening to the uses of land and the consequences of our food choices.
Not surprisingly, the verve of the work was what the artist named as environmental sculpture, a concept that deals with both a redesign of our digestive system – proposing its beginning not in the mouth, but on the land –, as well as a slippage of its function: the digestive system as a sculptural tool of the landscape.
In addressing the issue of food beyond the idea of personal taste, Menna Barreto aimed at highlighting the relationship that food has with the environmental impact it generates, and in this very sense, restoration was another theme of the project, even because, as the artist showed , the word regeneration is etymologically close to restoration, which in its turn serves as the basis for restaurant, precisely the place where we go to restore ourselves, to recharge our energies.
Restauro, however, proposed a leap of scale in the activity of restoration, extrapolating the level of the individual restoration to, through the hunger of the public that participated in the artwork, favor the restoration of the soil, of biodiversity, of forests, of rivers, as well of fairer relations between producers and consumers through principles of alter-economies and of agroecology.
In addition to the fact that the project was already itself a relational soup – as it involved a series of institutions and individuals that collaborated with it and that made the proposition feasible, principally in the proportions that it engaged in that occasion –, the protagonism that agroecology assumed flourished in the way that Restoration dealt with its supply, which came mostly from a network of agroforestry farmers, who shared with us the role of a sculptor, not only of the landscape but also of the forest.
Agroforestry systems, we must add, can be understood as multispecies assemblages that count with human presence, including it as a catalyst for forest processes, since humans play a intertwining role in the relationship between species, composing with their qualities and tendencies, and articulating, from a sustainable forest managing perspective, the way that they relate inside its creative system, which leads to a technique for food production that benefits humans and all living beings of the forest, as well as its surroundings through processes of regeneration and fertilization of the soil, the water, the ecology of the region, and even other things, like local economies.
Well, by summoning the idea of site-specificity Menna Barreto not only proposed to think the sculpturability implied in the act of eating – considering that what we eat define the landscape where we live –, but took another step: rather than simply recognizing the impact and the responsibility of our eating habits on the landscape, Restauro pollinated a way in which we can add a degree of intentionality to them, so that the impact is not simply a resultant, but a goal that implies an active modeling of the planet through the perspective of agroecology and of ecogastronomy, which sow an ethical-political relationship with our food practices.
If we talk about politics then is because Restoration not only understood the act of eating as a political act, but also because it emerged as a proposal of political activism, more specifically of food activism, which is nourished by deep ecological motivations, promoting the politicization of taste and an awareness of the environmental impacts of our eating practices.
Our interest, though, is to take this assemblage, this agencement and think-move with Restauro, thinking-feeling with the concept of environmental sculpture in order to fabulate what, indeed, dance and play between hunger and appetite.
If we take the concept of Amerindian perspectivism (Viveiros de Castro, 1996, 1998), for instance, maybe we can start to perceive not just this movements, but the possibility of cultivating this political dimension in another terms, maybe still strange to our tastes.
This concept deals with a widespread notion in Amerindian thoughts in which the world is populated by a multitude of other subjects, in the very sense that "there are many more societies (and therefore also humans) between heaven and Earth than have been dreamt by our philosophy and anthropology" (Danowski; Viveiros de Castro, 2017, p. 94), so that what we would call natural world is for Amerindian epistemologies a society of connected societies where other species are also subjects and peoples.
By setting no absolute difference in status between society and environment, as if the first was the subject and the second the object, Amerindian perspectivism not only radicalizes the assertion that everything is political, but also reverses the classical Cartesian postulate, stating that if something exists, it thinks; and that what we call environment refers to a cosmopoliteia, to an international arena where all the existent is fundamentally seen as human, so that the very humanity is at the same time a universal condition and a self-referential perspective as the humanity of each species is always at stake due to this deictic game of perspectives.
This implies the fact that the point of view of the “I-subject”, of the "I-human" cannot be exercised simultaneously in the encounter, in the confrontation between two species, in such a way that the humanity of one species is imposed on that of the other, and usually the latter ends up being devoured in this metaphysics of predation, where:
humans will under normal conditions see humans as humans and animals as animals (...). Predatory animals and spirits, for their part, see humans as prey, while prey see humans as spirits or predators (...). ‘The human being sees himself as what he is. The loon, the snake, the jaguar, and The Mother of Smallpox, however, see him as a tapir or a pecari to be killed’ (…) In seeing us as nonhumans, animals and spirits regard themselves (their own species) as human: they perceive themselves as or become anthropomorphic beings when they are in their houses or villages, and apprehend their behavior and characteristics through a cultural form [which means that]: they perceive their food as human food – jaguars see blood as manioc beer, vultures see the worms in rotten meat as grilled fish – and their corporeal attributes (coats, feathers, claws, beaks) as finery or cultural instruments, and they even organize their social systems as human institutions, are with chiefs, shamans, exogamous moieties and rituals. (Viveiros de Castro, 2014, p. 76)
Thereby, if we add this personhood and this perspectiveness to our conceptual menu, imminently we cannot think of food and eating in the same manner, especially considering not just the way that humans see animals, spirits and other actants in the Amerindian cosmos, but mainly because every difference is political in this multiverse, precisely because every relation is social.
Which is not a simple logical possibility, but an ontological potentiality where “there is scarcely an existent that could not be defined in terms of its relative position on a scale of predatory power” (Id., p. 57), and the positions of predator and prey implicate other collectives and personal multiplicities in this interspecies perspectivism, in this ontological multinaturalism and in this cannibal alterity.
Nourished then by this ontological potentiality, we can germinate tendencies of eating in which we extrapolate the common understanding of it as an anthropocentric-biopolitical problem, and also the recurrent idea of hunger as a physiological problem that comprises the individual body and, at its limit, the human species.
This seasoning spices an ontological dimension of eating, a dimension where it is not only an ethical-political act, an act of resistance but, more than that, it is a cosmopolitical act of resistance, in such a way that we can fabulate how an eater is also a kind of cosmopolitical diplomat, in the sense that our food practices put us in the center of an arena where all the multiplicity of beings strives to persevere into existence, and where the “shocks, [the] appropriations of parts, the transformations of relations, the compositions to infinity (...)” (Deleuze, 2009, pp. 242-243) blossom.
Hence, the very possibility of producing a more potent body involves the capacity to, if we remember Spinoza, establish relations of composition with other bodies, with other beings and also to avoid relations which may break down our own singular relations, as the Yanomami shaman Davi Kopenawa narrates in The Falling Sky while he tells us about his initiation process to become a shaman:
At first, I really suffered from the hunger, to the point of crying! But that’s the way it is, you cannot see the xapiri [the spirits of the forest] and become a shaman by dozing with your stomach full of game and manioc. (…) The xapiri were constantly dancing around me, and it was they who were feeding me. By becoming other, I was starting to eat an invisible food that they placed in my mouth while I was asleep. In my dream, they repeated: “Eat, this is our food!” (…) Then I could smell the scent of their annatto body paint and magic plants spreading around me. I was very weak but in my sleep, I happily ate what they brought to me. (…) Bit by bit, the wasp spirits and the xaki bee spirits devoured all the fat in my body. There was nearly nothing left of my flesh (…) All traces of food and rotten game had disappeared from my insides. The xapiri had weakened me with hunger and thirst. They had made me much thinner. I had become clean and sweet-scented like I was supposed to be. It is so. Yet I did not feel badly at all for I truly wanted to become a shaman! It is so. To receive the spirits of the elder who give us the yãkoana, we must have an empty stomach. At the beginning, its powder must be our only food. Once our insides are truly cleaned out, the xapiri can finally come to us. (Kopenawa; Albert, 2013, pp. 81-82)
So, as we can note, hunger in this vibratory field appears as a technique that not just shifts ontologies and modes of existence toward a collective milieu, but flowers potentials, dancing with Kopenawa’s appetite to become a shaman, opening up a different problematic field: the one of becoming, of becoming other.
That is to say that hunger has less to do with feeding the biological body, but rather, mainly to ontogenesis, in the very sense that, as Andrew Goodman well observes:
the motivation of the Shaman (…) is not a perspective owned by her [/him/it/...], but an environmental appetite that passes through her [/him/it/...] – [it] is a collective conditioning, [it is] the addition of new planes of potential, newly layered dimensions of relationality (…) in a state of transition as their sense of their own body fluctuates and shifts to something well beyond the human: not exactly a becoming-plant, but more an intense bodyplant individuation. (2018, p. 9)
This is an idea that takes us back to the vegetable promiscuity held by Restoration with the notion of forestness, that tried to address a certain force, a certain quality of relations within this bodyplant individuations that was transversal to the environmental appetite that the artwork cultivated and that was determinant to it, especially to its educational approach, which attempted to invent techniques to work not via human mediation and human discourses, but through a sort of molecular politics where art is a technique, a way, an “intuitive process for activating the relational composition that is life-living” (Manning, 2015, p. 51).
Although shifting ontologies in order to include other humans, other subjects, other species already arouses a certain appetite from many thinkers, this proposition was trying precisely to take the human discourse away from the center of the discussion, and this spurs us to a fabulation about what else hunger could be if we refuse any categorical distinctions between human and nonhuman and if we try to include in the mix the nonhumanness that is in all of us.
Of course that in Restauro there was a tendency to a typical sense of hunger crossing its daily routine as a food service provider – as it was, after all, the restaurant of the Biennial –, and clearly it was something that we had to deal and to learn to compose with as, to remember Spinoza again, an encounter with a typical hungry person could unfold as a bad encounter, involving a certain hangerness.
However, what we really want to bring to the table is a subterranean quality, a minor tendency that pointed out to a different understanding of hunger: a hunger for commons, a hunger for compositions, a hunger for socialities, a hunger for relationality, a hunger for something that was not given, an appetite for novelty we might say.
And that resonates what Erin Manning calls artfulness: “the world’s capacity to make felt the force of a welling ecology (…) [that is not] a general fact [but] an intensive singularity, an opening onto an outside that affects each aspect of experience but cannot be captured as such.” (2015, p. 64)
When there is artfulness, Manning adds, it is because conditions have been created that enable new openings for experience in the making, new conditions, new possibilities, even because, as well as ecologies, “artfulness is always more than human.” (Id., p. 72)
Which is not to say that we want to exclude it. When we talk about Restoration we are talking also about the human, but through an ecology of existence in which it is more likely a relay, an entertainer (Goodman; Manning, 2012) or, to phrase it in different terms, in a way where there is no need to make the experience all about the human, neither to colonize and organize the powers of life from the perspectives of our stomachs and tastes.
Those perspectives – of the human, of the biological, of the senses – organize our bodies, our hungers, our appetites and also the novelties of life in a choreography that frames the qualities of experience in such a way that, as in certain parts of a dense forest, there is little sunlight for novelty to emerge.
In this same sense, considering the fact that in contemporaneity the very field of emergence is at the core of the investments of what Brian Massumi (2015a) defines as ontopower – a power that acts at the level of the production of a form of life, precisely in its field of emergence – the problems around eating and hunger are coined in misleading and poor ways that engender questions like "what will be the future of food and eating?", a masked manner to ask “what will be the future of humanity?”.
And we say this justly because they are formulated in modes that continuously reset human centrality, calling the attention to some kind of new stage in human development where the very mankind is threatened by the end of the world.
The good news is that, as the indigenous thinker Ailton Krenak would say , it is the end of a certain world. A world where the human considers himself suspended and detached from the environment and where:
White people call us [indigenous people] ignorant because we are other people than they are. But their thought is short and obscure. It does not succeed in spreading and rising because they prefer to ignore death. They are prey to dizziness because they constantly eat the meat of their domestic animals who are sons-in-law of Hayakoari, the tapir-like being who makes people turn other. They constantly drink cachaça and beer that overheat their chests and fill them with fumes. This is why their words become so bad and muddled. (Kopenawa; Albert, op. cit., p. 313)
Not by chance, and as we already had the opportunity to taste, politics are something else for the peoples of the forest. To the Yanomami, for instance:
It is the words of Omama and those of the xapiri that he gave us. These are the words that we listen to during the time of dream and that we prefer because they are truly ours. The white people, they do not dream as far as we do. They sleep a lot but only dream of themselves. Their thought remains blocked, and they slumber like tapirs or turtles. This is why they are unable to understand our wor[l]ds. (Id., p. 313)
Therefore, politics in this perspective not just do not privilege body-worlds separations, but involves the affirmation of multiple multiplicities that dance around at least three tasty cosmopolitical problems that resonate within each other: the one of eating, the one of dreaming and the one of listening (Laird, 2018).
And when we talk about resonance it is because their transversality do not resonate sameness, but produce difference, co-composing multiple worlds that are not individual and reflexive in each other by common contents and/or forms of life, but resonant in their affirmative co-creating togetherness that, as Manning also points out about artfulness, “cleaves experience to produce not a recognizable set of frameworks, but new modes of knowing, of feeling, of acting” ￼ and, why not, of eating.
Potentially [n -] one in which eating can be understood as a schizo-somatic practice that listens not just to the sounds of our hungry stomachs, but that fertilizes modes of living that fructify affective attunements to environmental appetites and an acuteness to relationality: a hunger for collective dreams, an appetite for becoming-other.
In this sense, the relational field that Restoration opened allowed hunger to exceed the body-envelope, moving individuation by the alliance with an agroecological practice that enables the conditions for the emergence of complexity and difference, emphasizing the potential of dynamic and diverse ecologies with intensive capacities towards a collectively experiment with flux, an experimentation that not just reminds us of rewilding (Goodman, op. cit.), but that moves experience towards a politics of immediation, sowing new possibilities of life, as well as different kinds of socialities.
In the other hand, by cultivating processes, possibilities, dimensions and creativity, and not just a good – we mean, food –, agroforestry aims the flow and the circulation between things, a self-organizing criticality as Andrew Goodman would say: “a tuning of the field towards its future differentiation that is felt by the ecology itself – an immediatory process by which ‘fields of relation agitate and activate to emerge into collectivities’ (Brunner, Manning, Massumi, 2013, p. 136)”. (op. cit., p. 5)
Thus, agroecology is in our perspective, as rewilding, “less about conservation than returning an ecology to a state where it can immediate” (Id., p. 12), neither of recovering an existing potential within a piece of land, or a field, but to “a process by which disparate entities and forces are integrated into a system of relation through the ongoing negotiations and transformations of energy flows and individuations” (Ibid., p. 7).
In this same sense, to paraphrase Whitehead, appetite begins in wonder and hereupon:
we need to live first of all (…) to believe that whatever is produced from the mysterious depths of ourselves need not forever haunt us as an exclusively digestive concern. (…) if it is important for us to eat first of all, it is even more important for us not to waste in the sole concern for eating our simple power of being hungry (Artaud, 1958, p. 7) [: the wonder remains.]
That is to say that hunger is not an entropic force, but a fruitful and fertile one, in such a way that the powers of hunger, as a transvaluing gift, move us toward an ecology of experiences and practices that values its relational emergence, as well as of the relational emergence of the experience of eating, which, as Menna Barreto stated, begins not in the mouth, but on the land.
Eating then connects the forces of becoming-other at the level of the process, a level in which this ecological field – mouth-land-forest – is pointing to potentials that are not yet fully unfolded in a world in which metabolism is always nascent within potential politics: metabolization as the fold and the unfold of potentials.
So, to paraphrase Monteiro (2009): the issue is not food, nor nutrients, so much as process. And in this same sense, resonating Deleuze and Guattari, a food practice “does not come after the emplacement of the terms and their relations, but actively participates in the drawing of the lines” (1987, p. 203), in the very sense that environmental sculpting not just fruits a way to get out of the nutritional-biological loop, but pollinates affective politics, cultivating these ecological bodyings.
Hereupon, eating wells as a technique of immanence, a technique that surpasses relations with objects, functions or systems, fertilizing forces for bodies in the making in a machinic autopoiesis where experience reaccesses its powers of emergence in such a way that eating not just plays with emergent cosmologies, but flowers as a biogramming technique for conceiving the potential of collective individuation to produce ecologies of experience and counterontopowers.
Thus, by enjoying the blurriness of the lines between body and world – not in the mouth, but on the land –, hunger blossoms as an intercession. It doesn’t start in the body, but in the middle, in-between, moving “the transindividual nature of the forces at play and their primary role in the potential individuation of plant, human, image, thought and hybrids of all these components” (Goodman, op. cit., p. 11): we are in hunger, and not hunger in us.
And with this we try precisely to emphasize the coindividuation that hunger moves in an eco-logical perspective (Guattari, 1995, 2000), in a vital complex where forces of becoming resonate the richness of the potential individuations that arouse our appetite, that is embedded, by its turn, in “a parallel series of collective individuations that move the ecology forward. To where? Perhaps to a new intensity – new degrees of differentiation – lived across new planes” (Goodman, op. cit., p. 8): rewilding appetite.
Therefore, hunger is not just a biological phenomenon related to a single body, nor to a population. It involves a transversality, and not a set of ontological-political-categorical-hierarchical relations – as "predator-prey" or even a “who predates who” logic –, precisely the ones that we commonly see intensified in restaurants, where the human-anthropocentric sovereignty is crowned as it ascends to the top of the food chain.
In this very sense, one of the tastiest questions is, as Manning well poses:
what exactly it is that has led us to the certainty we seem to have that the world can be parsed out into subjects and objects, and how intertwined this assertion has become with a notion of interactivity that sets itself up (...) as a mediating interplay between already-existent terms? (2013, p. 220)
If we take hunger then as a transindividual problem, what is at stake is not just a geography of hunger as Josué de Castro stated, but a geophilosophy of hunger, since it becomes an onto-topological problem and, in this very sense, it is no more sequestered to the interiority of a biological body, neither it is a phenomenon that regards subjects and species, but an event that plays with adverbs and speciations : not life, but lifeness, not hunger, but hungerness, not appetite, but appetiteness.
So, if we think in terms of speciations, we start to cross organic and inorganic all the time: everything is co-composing in a logic of mutual inclusion where everything singularly contributes, especially because neither human, nor object, nor animal, nor plant come to experience fully-formed. They edge into experience relationally, disregarding any possible in-itselfness in favor of worldings:
(…) they are tweakings of emergent tendencies for coalescence within a co-emergent field of experience. They are neither human nor nonhuman – more like resonance machines that are activated in the between of the organic and the inorganic (…) a kind of coming-into-emergence of a welling individuation that connects as a remarkable point or a point of inflection to a wider field of experience (…). The singular “speciation” (…) activates the wider field of relation toward certain tendencies (…) [in a way in which] speciations converge not through a matrix of identity (“the” animal, “the” human), but through (…) speeds and slownesses of welling co-constitutive ecologies. (Manning apud Massumi, 2015b, pp. 122-123)
Hungerness, thereby, pollinates speciations, prehending not an object – food –, nor a cultural relation – what is edible –, neither a social practice – a food practice –, but a relational field, fruiting a mode of perception that doesn’t perceive ontologically distinct categories of beings, and a mode of living that doesn’t move from subjects to objects, from species to species, from self to self, from self to other, or from self [to] service, but from dynamic constellation to dynamic constellation, producing worlds and creating a bodying in a shifting co-composition where eating is an ontocreative practice: the self-production of being in becoming.
Resonating Brian Massumi, thinking this way:
perhaps allows us to consider how fields of resonance or associated milieus emerge through the coexistence not of identity structures (the human, the self) but through ecologies that are as much rhythms as “beings” – different scales and intensities of time. This may in turn enable us to get beyond identity politics (as it continues to exist even within politics of affect) and explore the immanent co-existence of a relational third (…), a radical empiricism without a preconditioned sense of what the terms of the relation consist of (…). (2015b, p. 117)
Hungerness, in this sense, is a problem of style: simultaneously real and virtual, but in an impersonal mode that cultivates movements of correlated differentiation, including all manner of differentiation in potential in such a way that, to remember Ursula Le Guin and the Frin People, it engenders a collective, social and ecologically generative force, a set of conditions where the messmate doesn’t share its practice – a particular food practice –, neither the content – the food –, but the style: a mode of life that nourishes a collective sensitivity in which the eater is always intertwined and nascent within every particle and potential of the milieu, that expresses a relational movement that, by its turn, exceeds the terms of the predator and the prey, and their individual bodyness, in-forming the speciations that their movement-moving creates: hungerness as the felt quality of a relational field that is always more-than human.
Meanwhile, this is not to say that there is no human, plant, or animal, nor any species or structures of identity:
all speciations [all ecologies of expression] do culminate to some degree into species or categories. The point is not that there is no identity (…) but that the species is not where the process begins or ends. Our proposition is not to negate species or identity, but to become aware that the force of collective individuation happens in the interstices where the ecologies are still in active transformation. (Manning apud Massumi, 2015b, p. 123)
Thereat, appetiteness creates the stakes of its own adventure, blossoming in “an ecology of practices that continuously interfolds the inorganic with the organic, shaping experience in the making” (Id., p. 140). It is, in this sense, preindividual, a virtual contribution that opens life to its potentials: appetiteness as the virtual force of a process that creates newness.
Hungerness and appetiteness then, as well as lifeness, are obviously not just about surviving, but producing potential politics within a style of life care that engage itself in the vital production of life-living and whose aim is precisely to value and to expand the force to exist, to cultivate:
a state of (…) relationships of bodies correlated to the passage to a higher level of power, that is, to a greater “effort to persevere in existence” or even a higher power to affect and be affected and thus establish compositional relationships with other bodies, corresponding ultimately (…) [to] the possibility of production of the common (Teixeira, 2015, p. 38) [: a Great Health.]
Thence, appetiteness is always nascent intertwined with a hunger for [under]commons, feeding a relational third. In this same sense, since each of us is several, we never eat alone. Even because eating is not an end, but a beginning of a process that is capable of keeping difference alive as, to remember John Cage: “not one sound fears the silence that extinguishes it. And no silence exists that is not pregnant with sound” (1969, p. 98).
Appetiteness, thus, nourishes not just polyrhythms, but a problem of intervals, of exploring the immanent co-existence of a relational third within an event-constellation: a question of feeding an inflexion, an in-between, of cultivating a site of cosmogenesis.
The question that remains for now, though, is not exactly “what moves between hunger and appetite?” – regardless the fact that Whitehead spurs us to think that “life is in the intervals between things - in the way things relate, in the way they come together in events under the dominant tendency towards the generation of new forms, or ontogenesis” (Massumi, 2015b, p. 127) –, but above all, to ask: what is to experiment with cooking food for thought in the act?
Far from answering this question, this composition is a way of playing with its whatness, a way of experimentally think-across-and-with the idea that every practice, like environmental sculpting, is a mode of thought already in the act, and a thought, we might add,
is a tremendous mode of excitement. Like a stone thrown into a pond, it disturbs the whole surface of our being. But this image is inadequate. For we should conceive the ripples as effective in the creation of the plunge of the stone into the water. The ripples release the thought, and the thought augments and distorts the ripples. In order to understand the essence of thought we must study its relations to the ripples amid which it emerges. (Whitehead, 1968, p. 36)
That is to say that our proposition aims to offer, by the alliance with speculative pragmatism, an environment for experimentation with the problems that gravitate around food and eating by serving a new handful of ingredients, a different set of conditions where we not just don’t define the concepts of hunger and appetite by their usual biological-biomedical-nutriticeutical framework, but we try to experiment and taste the implications of beginning in the middle, in-between.
By doing this, perhaps we may research-create a lure for a thinking-feeling that moves through new textures of knowledge, through affective attunements, through nonhumaness, through togetherness, through ecologies of expression, through collective dreams and fields of inquiry that fruit in the in-betweeness of the potentials, of the affects, of the minor gestures, of the empirical content and of the more-than of art, of indigenous modes of existence, of neurodiverse modes of perception, of agroecology, of process philosophy, of cosmopolitcs, of the medicine of the body without organs; which, in all of their inventiveness, not solely create events, but allow relations to emerge differently, changing the quality of processes, fabulating healths, hungers, peoples, appetites, politics and worlds to come.
Betw(in) hunger and appetite:
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