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redemn · 8 months

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＊ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍 . ＊ independent , selective , private . ː 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 from rockstar's 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ➁ . penned by kat , she/her , 28. a study in ː the reclamation of the self , preservation of the moral code in sedition , and the perpetuation of circumstantial change .

i always knew you had to be willin' to die to even do this job . but , i don't want to push my chips forward and go out and meet somethin' i don't understand . a man would have to put his soul at hazard . he'd have to say : ' o.k., i'll be part of this world . '

⁰¹⋆ carrd. ⁰²⋆ pinterest. ⁰³⋆ spotify. ⁰⁴⋆ prompts. ⁰⁵⋆ hcs. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⁰⁶⋆ tyler owens. ( if i'm not here , i'm there )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤtruncated rules under the cut.

⁰¹⋆ on followers + following . no minors please . in fact , i'd be more comfortable with people over the age of 21 due to my own age . i am not interested in keeping a large following of people i do not interact with , or who do not at least like my posts every once in a while . whenever i'm on the dash , i try to do the same courtesy . also , sometimes i don't keep up with developments in the rpc , so if you ever see me interacting with anyone who has been proven to be problematic in the past or even recently , please let me know so that i can cut it off .

⁰²⋆ on shipping . like everyone , i love shipping , but i'm not someone wants to jump into it without proper development beforehand . i prioritise and often populate my blogs with primarily platonic or non-ship-oriented threads . i practice ship exclusivity , which means i will only ship with one version of a character , and i expect the same courtesy . if your muse ships with another arthur , unless you are a very very close friend , i will not ship him with that muse , period . [ … ] on a related note , please don't ask to write smut if we barely know each other and / or haven't written any "regular" threads together . i do write smut with those i ship with , mostly on discord , but pwp doesn't interest me at all , so save us both time and don't ask . i'd write 10 fluff threads over a smut thread any day . my thoughts on the matter . i am also not open to shipping if we don't at least write threads on here . again , i am not interested in immediately shipping if we don't have something built up first , and it makes me feel like people don't appreciate it if they don't at least try to answer asks that i send or write some form of thread on here .

⁰³⋆ IMPORTANT . i understand that arthur is a canon character and everyone's interpretations of him are different . but please do not impose what you think arthur would do or how he would react on my interpretation . please also do not try to ship without first plotting out a thorough friendship between them , because both i and arthur need chemistry in order for that to work . otherwise i personally will not be invested . arthur is demisexual and won't form any sexual attraction for anyone until he has a strong connection with them , and no , just saying "they've been friends" is not good enough for me .

⁰⁴⋆ on content . triggering content will be present on this blog , due to the nature of the game and my own writing . i tag all my triggers with "trigger //" for reference . most importantly , there will be mentions of terminal illness // here .

⁰⁵⋆ on activity . i work a full time job , monday-friday . please respect that in regards to my activity . my other blog is penddraig . hi . :)

⁰⁶⋆ if you could like this post after reading my rules , i would appreciate it . this is not mandatory , for those of you who are anxious about it . i just like knowing and i like a little interaction . i hope my rules don't sound too harsh to all of you . i promise i'm not mean !! i'm just old , i've been in the rpc for a long time , and want to nip issues i've encountered in the bud before they start .

#pinned.

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storyofwhoiam · 4 years

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PSA:

It has come to my attention that some people are not aware of exactly what I mean when I say ‘spam me with memes’.

The best way to my heart?

Waking up in the morning to:

Will I answer all 66 of these? No. My inbox currently looks like this:

There is no chance that I’ll get around to answering 1052 all of these. If you just send the odd meme here and there, that is totally fine by me and I’ll always try to prioritise those ones so that they don’t get lost in the sea of memes.

I love getting spammed - and I mean spammed - by a whole bunch of memes in one go though. You don’t have to send me 66 at once (though you are more than welcome to - ask limits are best ignored in my book, the submit page is there for a reason!) but if you send a few then it means that I’ve got some choice for what kind of thing I feel like writing or which muse(s) I’m writing for that day.

If there’s a specific one that you’re really excited for and definitely want a reply to, let me know! Otherwise I’ll just pick away at random at them.

Essentially, what I’m saying - if you haven’t gathered this already - is send me memes. If there’s a muse of mine that you’d want more interactions with, go peruse my meme tag; if we’ve already got 2947 things, go send more anyway, you’re under no obligation to turn memes into threads (although you are always welcome to); if I add a new muse, or a bunch of test muses as I have currently, go send them a bunch of things.

I am never going to have an issue with you sending memes. If I don’t have muse for that specific muse/scenario/etc I’ll keep it and might hopefully come back to it later. If I’m not sure how it might fit with our muses, I might just ping you a message to see if you do.

tldr; here’s my meme tag, here’s my ask, here’s my submit - go crazy folks.

#ooc

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sleepychai-fics · 4 years

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Road to Salvation ~ Chapter 1 - Prologue

(click for better quality)

Warnings: Death, blood (just the description of it, nothing spilt)

Word Count: 2903

Pronouns: Female

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in BNHA. However, there are many OC’s in this fic that I’ve created. These OC’s belong to me and are specifically created for this fic.

Feedback is appreciated! Comment down below if you’d liked to be added to the Taglist for this fic!

People jump in surprise as you roll into a landing, using the momentum to take off into a sprint. You tighten your grip on the plastic bag in your hand, your backpack jostling from the movement but secure nonetheless.

“Stop her!”

You duck your upper body low to further avoid visual detection as you hear thundering footfalls behind you. Bystanders gasp and scream at your figure as you weave between them.

Two pro heroes are in close pursuit after you, shoving people and objects out of their way, leaving havoc in their wake.

They’re careless. Good.

With your small, malnourished figure, it’s easy for the well-built and highly trained pros to catch up to you. However, just as one reaches to grab at your hoodie, you leap out onto the road.

Cars screech to a halt and toot their horns as you vault across the street. You hear the pros curse you as they adjust to the sudden change in directions.

People jolt to a stop as you dash past them, veering into the nearest alleyway. The two pros race after you, citizens yelling as they are yet again shoved out of the way.

The pair turn down the alleyway but stop short once finding it a bare dead end. Anger and shock mix in their features.

“Where the fuck did she go?” One asks as he scurries towards a pile of trash bags.

“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t turn down this alley?” The other asks as he scratches his head.

The first one gets mad and glares at the second. “I saw her come down this alley!”

“Well we can’t see her here so where else could she have gone?!”

Just as the two get ready to brawl with each other, a taunting whistle causes them to snap their heads up.

Your peering over the edge of the tall building, too high for the heroes to even think about scaling up. A smile is spread across your lips, victory etched onto your face.

“Thanks for the run! Thought I was going to be missing out on my cardio today!” Your comment makes the pros growl in frustration. “Well, I better get going now. See ya!” You can’t help but laugh as you walk away from the ledge, the pros yelling and cursing obscene profanities at you.

You walk to the middle of the building before kneeling down and slinging off your backpack. The buzzing of your phone has you hastily unzipping your bag. Swiftly grabbing your phone from the inside pocket, you glance to the screen before accepting the call.

“Hey Dabi. What’s up?”

“You plan on coming back anytime soon?”

You hum as you stuff the bag of bread into your backpack. “Yep! Just snagged a jackpot full of bread. Even got a loaf of gluten-free. Their security is sloppy. It’s like they were asking me to steal the bag!”

Dabi chuckles. “That’s good. So I’ll see you in 15?”

“Yeah.” You take a quick glance at the time before returning the phone to your ear. “Kai should be finishing work soon so I’ll probably meet up with him on the way.”

“Cool. See you then.”

“See ya!” After hanging up the call, you toss the phone back into your bag before zipping it up. Securing the straps around your shoulders, you slide your gaze across the horizon.

You crane your neck to each side, the sound of it popping satisfying to you. Bouncing side-to-side, you sigh. “Let’s do this.”

You take off in a sprint towards the edge of the building, vaulting over the small fence with ease.

What awaits you is a large drop to the next building. Common knowledge says the fall can severely injure anyone. But you’re not afraid in the slightest.

The force of gravity pulls you into a faster descent, you feel it in your body, the way your insides seem to flutter with nervous excitement. The feeling is horrifying and absolutely amazing.

You have to squint in order to properly view below you. Your feet dangle in your vision as the cement roof gets closer with every beat of your heart. As soon as your shadow casts onto the roof, your eyes glimmer with the activation of your quirk.

The speed of your fall slows down drastically as you grip onto your quirk, fingers twitching with the effort.

Seconds pass by before you feel the soft press of cement beneath your thin-soled shoes. A smile spread across your face, heartbeat thundering with exhilarating adrenaline.

You take off once again, using your quirk to vault across and between buildings.

~*~

The bell chimes as Kai opens the door, leaving the bustling cafe and entering the busy streets. He adorns a loosely fitting black shirt which ruffles in the cool wind and tight-fitting jeans that look to be on the edge of throwing out. With a tired yawn, he lifts a hand to thread through his thick silver hair.

“I think it’s time you cut it.”

Kai snaps his dark gaze over to where you are, leaning against the wall beside the cafe entrance. He breathes out a light laugh. “You think?”

“Yeah! It’s on the brink of touching your shoulders again.” You reply as you spring off the wall.

Kai shrugs, standing beside you as the two of you merge into the moving crowd. “It’s only been five months.”

“I know, but your hair grows quickly. We should at least trim it back a couple inches.” You suggest, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Kai swats at your hand. “Yeah okay. Are you happy to do it then?”

You chuckle as he fixes his hair to the side of his face. “Sure. How was work today?”

“Not that bad actually.” Kai switches from his annoyed tone to a happier tone. “The old lady came in today and gave me a loaf of the gluten-free bread.”

“That’s nice of her. I assume you got work tomorrow as well?”

He shakes his head. “No. He gave me a couple days off. I don’t work till next week.”

“Ahh. That’s too bad. You got paid today, right?”

“Yep. He gave me a little bit extra as an apology for being late.” Kai informs as the two of you turn a corner.

“Fucking finally! That dude had me worried he was turning into an asshole.” You say as you step out of the way of a man as he runs through the crowd.

Kai laughs as he agrees. “So was I.”

Topics of conversation pass between the two of you as you walk among the crowd. Every street you pass and every corner you turn gets more secluded as you walk. Thirty minutes pass and the environment has drastically changed from the bright eye-soar of the bustling city, to the gloomy, deserted area of the abandoned industrial part of town. The only people that occupy the streets are the homeless and the outcasts.

A cry from a dark alley reaches your ears and you abruptly stop your conversation and pause in your steps, eyes snapping towards the looming darkness of the alley. Kai, having also heard the noise, follows your actions.

“Sounded like a child.” Kai speaks softly.

You hum in agreeance, sliding off the straps of your bag. “Stay here. I’ll go check it out.” After handing your bag over to Kai, you quietly walk into the dark alley.

As a supplement to your quirk, you gained the genetic ability to see clearly in the night with barely any effort, making it much easier to peer into the dark alley. As a result of this, your eyes glow faintly in the dark.

You quietly creep deeper into the alley, surveying every object in the cramped area. With a twitch of your eye, you activate your quirk, amplifying the way you see. You feel the cold shadows of the dumpsters and litter throughout the alleyway. The bricks of the dark walls also have their own shadows despite already being in the dark.

It’s the presence of two human-like entities a few feet ahead of you that you focus on. One is slumped between the dumpster and the wall while another, smaller one kneels beside it, shaking with violent shivers. You deduce that it’s the one crying.

As you deactivate your quirk, your peer around the dumpster.

Laid against the dumpster lies a woman covered in blood, clothes torn to shreds and bruises littering her skin. Her brown eyes are half-lidded but full of fear, more so as she glances at you. Beside her kneels a child, tears steadily falling from their eyes, clothes equally torn but not as badly. Blood spots are scattered across them, but it doesn’t appear to be theirs, only a few bruises marking their skin.

The two instantly gasp and try to cower further into the wall.

You hold your hands above your shoulders as you squat before them a few feet away. “It’s okay. I mean no harm. I only wish to help you.”

The woman, presumably the mother of this child, releases the tension in her body. “Are you really?” Her voice is quiet and shaky though her tone is apprehensive.

You nod, lowering your hands to your lap and smiling. “Yes. My name is (Y/n), I can take you somewhere where we can take care of you. I’m not sure what you know about this neighbourhood, but there’s a place nearby that can help you. It’s usually referred to as ‘The Mall’.”

The mother takes a shaky breath. “I… I remember hearing… about that place. You… it’s a place where… people go when they have nowhere… else to go. They say you… take in those who are… forgotten and left out of society.”

A gentle laugh escapes you. “That’s the gist of it yes. They also say that we are the edge of villainy.”

She nods. “Yes. I heard that too. Are… Are you villains?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you answer: “Yes and no. There’s a lot of us who have managed to get a job. We use that money to get survival essentials, such as food, water, medications if necessary. We try to prioritise what we can.”

She sighs in relief. “That’s good.”

“Although, there are a few of us who the society would dub villains. I am one of those few.” This sentence raises tension between you two. “We go out and steal money and other things such as food from others.”

The child cowers closer to his mother, hands shaking as they grasp her shirt.

You continue, despite the tensions of the atmosphere. “But we have our own special rules about doing it, the main one being we only steal from those who are clearly above the average pay grade or are more than capable of supporting themselves.”

The mother laughs lightly. “Serves them right.” You laugh along with her. “You steal to survive… Something a lot of people… take for granted.” You nod and smile at her.

You watch as her eyes avert behind you, widening with a fresh wave of fear. You already know who it is, having tracked his shadow as he entered the alley. “There’s no reason to fear here.” You assure, smiling as he kneels beside you. “This is my friend Kai. He’s also from the mall.”

“Hello.” Kai greets, head bowed slightly.

The mother instantly relaxes, patting her child’s head. “So you do… whatever it takes to survive?”

You nod in agreement. “Yes.”

Kai speaks with a gentle voice. “We can guide you back to the mall, care for your wounds-”

A wet cough erupts from the mother, blood splattering everywhere and pooling from her mouth. The child whines and clutches tightly to her arm. She shakes her head twice. “No. It’s too late for me.”

“Mommy?” The child whimpers, new tears pooling at their eyes.

The mother's brown gaze brim with single tears, locking onto your own gaze. “Promise me… You’ll take care of my son?” She lightly gestures to the child who only quivers beside her, eyes squinting with tears and disbelief.

You nod, but Kai answers for you. “We promise we’ll do what we can for him.”

The mother smiles and lifts her shaky hands up to her neck. She fiddles with the chain of her silver necklace until she finally manages to unclasp it. With shaky movements, she carefully offers it to you, the rose engraved pendant dangling below.

“Take it. Please. Let him...have it… as a way to… re-remember me by.” Her frail voice all but begs.

Nodding, you reach over to take the necklace from her fingers. Her hand drops as soon as you take it, closing your fist around it protectively. She then peers over her son, a smile gracing her bloodied lips.

“My dear Michi…”

The boy, Michi, coughs out a sob. “Mommy.”

The mother moves her hand to cup his cheeks, the hold shaky and barely there. “My brave boy. I… want you to live… your life to the… fullest. Don’t… cry over me for… too long… I promise… that I’ll be… w-watching you… from above.” She breaks out into an airy cough, blood dribbling down her chin. Her hand drops from Michi’s cheeks, but not before swiping the few stray tears from his eyes. “I love you Michi.”

You watch as the light from her eyes fade to a dull colour. Her body is no longer twitching, chest no longer moving as her muscles give out.

Michi sobs loudly, body curling in on his deceased mother. He wails and screams, begging for her to come back despite the fact that he knows she’s gone for good.

You and Kai stay still, heads hung low in silent mourning as well as a silent promise. Neither of you move to take him away. You let him mourn the loss of his mother, not wanting to rip this moment away from him. Afterall, you both know it’ll be more detrimental to him if he doesn’t have this opportunity.

More than twenty minutes pass by sluggishly, nothing but the sounds of broken sobs and scream filling the air.

Eventually, his cries soften. He lifts his head up from his mother's stomach, eyes bloodshot from his continuous tears, face a sickly gray, most likely due to the amount of energy he spent.

He looks to you, brown eyes staring into your own until they peer down to your hand.

You smile and open your hand to reveal the necklace. “Would you like me to put it on you?”

A shiver runs through Michi’s spine, so violent he looks to be flinching.

“You don’t have to. I can give it to you to hold.”

Michi shakes his head and speaks with a low, worn out voice. “Can… Can I wear it? Please?”

You nod once. “Of course.”

Slowly, he stands up. His legs are shaky, his pants ripped beyond belief, barely giving him any protection from the cool air of the alley. He takes small steps towards you, eyes downcast, fingers twiddling with each other. Once he’s within your arms reach, he turns around to have his back face you.

Carefully, you bring the necklace around his neck, clasping it on with ease. You return your hands to your lap.

Michi turns around, and to your surprise, he wraps his arms around you. With little hesitation, you lightly wrap your own arms around him.

“My mommy trusts you. So, I will too.”

You can’t help but smile and tighten your grip. “I’m happy to hear that. I promise I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”

Michi tightens his own arms around you, shivering as cool wind brushes past.

“Are you cold?” Kai asks. Michi peeks his eyes over your shoulder, looking at Kai. He nods shyly.

Kai briefly takes off your bag in order to ease off his jacket, placing it over Michi. You move your arms to hold the jacket to him, tucking it around him.

“Are we going now?” Michi asks.

“It’s up to you Michi.”You reply.

Michi looks back towards his mother, his hand reaching up to grasp the pendant that hangs from the necklace. “She told me not to cry too much.”

“But you’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to feel sad that she’s gone. Where we’re going, no one will judge. I promise.” Kai assures him, smiling at him.

“I know. But she wants me to live and be happy.”

You thread your fingers through his black hair. “If you’re ready to go, we can. But don’t feel like you have to.”

He stays quiet, staring at his paling mother with glistened eyes. A few more minutes pass by with him simply staring at her. He then turns to look at you. “She said she would be watching me from above. She never breaks a promise.”

Neither you or Kai can stop the smile from spreading on your lips. With small movements you reach up to tuck a strand of black hair behind his ear. “Then let's show her you can grow to be a strong man.”

You see him smile before burying his face in the crook of your neck, exhaustion clearly overtaking him from the way his body practically melts into yours.

Kai helps you stand up straight, ensuring Michi stays comfortable and relaxed. With only a few seconds of hesitation, the three of you exit the alleyway.

#road to salvation #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha shinsou #mha shinsou

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sonicmakers · 6 years

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MATTHEW SERGEANT: DOING, KNOWING, MEETING [07.12.18]

As part of our recent forum at the RMA2018 annual conference, we invited composer Matthew Sergeant to respond to three conceptual threads with reference to his own making: DOING, KNOWING, and MEETING. A full text of Matthew’s contribution can be read below.

(1) DOING

I posit a notion of doing in which the term is innately entwined with the material world, in doing so delineating true doing from ‘thinking of doing’ or ‘imagining doing’, etc., (although the materiality of the neural domain is of course, itself, something that is open to debate).

I am particularly interested in the way in which doing, simply as a verb, sits interestingly within transitive and intransitive forms. Anthropologist Tim Ingold has popularised the idea that production should be understood intransively, ‘to set the verb ‘to produce’ alongside other intransitive verbs such as to hope, to grow and to dwell, as against such transitive verbs as to plan, to make and to build’ (Ingold 2011: 6). I think it’s interesting how, taken without subject – ‘I do’ – the verb becomes innately performative (think of wedding vows), an observation that itself has not escaped scrutiny (e.g. Gibson 1975).

From this performative perspective, however, might appears separated from its material edifice, as something that comes into being through and of action rather than material trace.

But, especially through my own practice, I have come to think of doing as something that does not exist exclusively within a human domain. I draw upon ideas from the so-called agential or vibrant materialism of, in particular, Jane Bennett (Bennett 2010) and Karen Barad (Barad 2007) and have developed a preoccupation with foregrounding in sound the agential behaviours – the doings - of non-sentient substances, objects or things.

Against such a theoretical backdrop, I have come to understand the material world as one innately comprised of doings. ‘[M]atter is no longer imagined […] as a massive, opaque plenitude but is recognized instead as indeterminate, constantly forming and reforming in unexpected ways’ (Coole & Frost 2010: 10). To re-word the sentence that follows that original quotation – one could conclude accordingly that matter ‘does’ rather than matter ‘is’. My own creative doings, therefore, are just one part of a dense entanglement of doings.

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In The Apparatus Project (2017, ongoing), for example, – I have worked to develop acoustic quasi-instruments - or ‘apparatuses’ (the term apparatus here lifted directly from Barad) - as reversals of conventional paradigms of human/nonhuman functionality within acoustic instrumental performance. I.e. in conventional instruments, the human component is passive, the nonhuman is active – I reverse this. The materiality of the human body especially interests me under this agential materialist gaze – ‘flesh’ as appearing to span the human/nonhuman divide. Borrowing ideas from philosopher Timothy Morton (Morton 2017), such a dichotomy has activated my project The Severing (2018) for body and/as performer.

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In this world, comprised entirely of an entangled rhizome of doings, how does one understanding one’s own sense of self? I think therefore I am, after all. And when I do things, I feel like that I is at least doing something. Yet, at one and the same time, such a perspective on the material world renders most visceral the critique of hylomorphism raised by Judith Butler (Butler 1993) – where the whole conceptual bifuracation of form and matter can be read as a misogynist lens on a gendered (the past tense is important) world. How can I do, without positioning myself as a phallic originator?

I see reconciliation in rethinking doing in a conceptual reversal, not as a force on but a force from the material world. Karen Barad describes this as an ‘intra-action’, where ‘[t]he neologism “intra-action” signifies the mutual constitution of entangled agencies. That is, in contrast to the usual “interaction,” which assumes that there are separate individual agencies that precede their interaction, the notion of intra-action recognizes that distinct agencies do not precede, but rather emerge through, their intra-action’ (Barad 2007: 33). That is to posit that doing does not emerge as through collision of agencies involved, those agencies are themselves the product of doing. Put another way, doing (as an action, as a phenomenon) is the lens by which maker and made themselves come into (maybe even seemingly bifurcated) being. What we do changes what we are.

Of course, such a position, calls into question the relationship between being and knowledge. For now, I’ll hold that back until the next segment of this statement.

(2) KNOWING

Gregory Bateson describes a process of deutero-learning, where knowledge of doing emerges through and of doing itself (Bateson 1973). Mark Johnson (amongst others) in essence expands this notion to foreground learning as an embodied practice (Johnson 2007) – deuteron-learning simply as learning, rather than a specific mode thereof.

Such positions resonate closely with the framework from Karen Barad that I began to introduce previously. What such positions broaden into what Barad refers to as an onto-epistemology (Barad 2007), where knowledge and being are necessarily entwined. Barad uses the example of the famous double-slit experiment of Niels Bohr. As will be remembered from this foundational aspect of quantum mechanics, here, experimental doings create both knowledge and being. To offer a somewhat inelegant outline for the sake of time, the electron exists simultaneously as a wave and a particle – it is the nature of the act of viewing that actually changes the form the electron takes. Therefore the act of observation itself creates both a particular being and also knowledge of that being.

Returning to a more concrete domain for a moment, as a practioner, I rarely know exactly what it is that I am doing. But this is something I have come to currently understand as, perhaps paradoxically, the core of an embodied notion of knowledge. Despite my best efforts, my operational mechanisms remain akin to the manner in which a child might explore the new world around them. When working with my material, I might do X, and observe Y; I might then do Z, and observe Y again, all the time assuming that I’m gaining a knowledge of Y, when, in fact, I’m merely defining a frame by which Y can have being. In essence, Y is being created through my intra-action with the material. Therefore, even if I then “aim for Y”, I cut my frame in a slightly different way – I change what Y is.

From this perspective, I am increasingly drawn to consider Ingold’s oft-cited notion of intransitive production as incomplete. That a discourse between (human and nonhuman) agencies allows form to emerge is only one plane of operation. Through a Baradian lens – and paradoxically - it is simultaneously also the form that creates the discursive agencies. Simply by setting out to produce a something, I am creating a frame within which that something is permitted being.

Of course, such a notion could be expanded outwards into a broader socio-cultural domain. Of course, it already has. Nina Eidsheim’s notion of ‘the figure of sound’, where sound is presented as a conceptual domain riddled with socio-cultural presumptions (Eidsheim 2015), serves as one example. Sara Ahmed’s examination of the sociality (cum heteronormativity, cum gendernormativity) of the spatial frame is another (Ahmed 2006). What has already been acknowledged in wider cultural analysis must now be acknowledged within the specific domain of the maker in the moment.

Ultimately, this reasoning is why I introduced this segment by talking not of knowledge, but of learning. That knowledge exists in a plurality has been long over-argued, but I currently find that talking of learning prioritises the line of flight (the Deleuzian reference is not un-acknowledged) over the ends, even if the ends are many. Even grammatically, learning seems more compatible with a material world comprised not of things but of doings – it is, after all, a verb, whereas knowledge (even in its plural) is a noun. Learning is a continuum, a vector rather than a co-ordinate. When discussing knowledge-making with other makers, I am therefore fascinated to know not what has come to be known, but the frame by which what has come to be known has been permitted to be come to be known, embracing the intra-action of knowledge-being. This, I think, is potentially the most profound insight offered by intellectual contemplation of practice.

(3) MEETING

I must be a nightmare to work with artistically. And in working contexts that I have come to call in my head ‘cold commissoning’, I must be an even bloodier nightmare to work with than normal.

In my own head, at least, ‘cold commissioning’ describes a very particular working situation where an ensemble with whom I have had little to no prior relationship, requests a piece for which there is no opportunity for workshop/experimentation prior to rehearsals leading up to the first performance.

In such situations, as soon as the rehearsal begins, performers (who, I should acknowledge are almost always extremely well-intentioned and wishing to help) begin asking questions in very quick succession. Would I like this passage played like this or more like this? Should this sound be nuanced towards this or like this? Presented with this, I find myself like a rabbit in a set of headlights. More often than not – and despite my best attempts at thorough and ‘professional’ preparation and anticipation – I’m still sometimes never entirely sure of the answers. It must be enormously frustrating for all those around me (I’m sorry!).

What I am trying to articulate in this colloquial introduction is that I find the whole process of making a process of meeting. As will now be clear from my previous segments, I do not see my making as hylomorphic. I see it as innately discursive. It is therefore innately about distributed notions of creativity. Amongst my favourite outlines of such a position is that of Liza Lim. As an alternative to the hylomorphic position, Lim posits a notion of hylaemorphic making, where hylae refers to the mycelial underground fibres of fungi that form a network of ‘fermentation, decomposition, diffusion and re-composition’ that connects ‘trees and other plants, decomposing matter [and] the soil’ (Lim 2013: 2). The fruits on the surface appear self-contained but are really just protrusions of the ongoing entwinement beneath.

But where I develop Lim’s position is via scrutiny of the participants in her network. Ethnographies of distributed creativity (e.g. Borne 1995, Clarke & Doffman 2017) prioritise human components of such networks. The sociality of creativity is something that I absolutely acknowledge and witness in my own practice. For today, though, I wish to turn our gaze in a different direction. If we consider that the material domain of making is comprised not of things but of doings (as previously outlined), then I think it is important to consider the nonhuman agencies – indeed non-sentient agencies – at play within the network Lim describes.

In essence, what I am wishing to outline converges the two themes I have exposited in my preceding two segments: material agency and knowledge as learning. That the material manifestation of a piece (in this particular case, but not exclusively, a work in performance) has an independent agency from that of any notion of its maker should come as no surprise, given what I have argued for thus far.

Therefore, what I mean by meeting – particularly in the sense of my own work, is the learning of this agency. As well be remembered, the intra-action of doing creates its own agencies from within a boundless entwinement, allowing knowledge to be seen not as a co-ordinate (or co-ordinates) but a line of flight, where things are perpetually learning themselves - becoming by the manner in which they are becoming known.

Therefore, a new piece – any new piece, regardless of working context – is something that cannot be said to have a concrete being that I (as author) have a privileged knowledge of, I am only a participant in the ongoing learning of being that is becoming learned. I am therefore meeting my work in rehearsal in the same way anybody else is, as a mutual interpreter or reader – as a finder. And maybe the questions sought of me are better understood as the questions sought by us all. I’ll be sure to provide this statement the next time somebody asks me if the brass are too loud.

REFERENCES

Ahmed, S., 2006. Queer phenomenology : orientations, objects, others. Duke University Press, Durham. Born, G., 1995. Rationalizing culture: IRCAM, Boulez, and the institutionalization of the musical avant-garde. Univ. of California Press, Berkeley, Calif. Clarke, E.F., Doffman, M. (Eds.), 2017. Distributed creativity: collaboration and improvisation in contemporary music, Studies in musical performance as creative practice. Oxford University Press, New York, NY. Coole, D.H., Frost, S., 2010. New materialisms : ontology, agency, and politics. Duke University Press, Durham [NC] ; London. Ingold, T., 2011. Being Alive: Essays on movement, knowledge and description. Routledge, Oxon. Johnson, M., 2007. The meaning of the body : aesthetics of human understanding. University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Lim, L., 2013. A mycelial model for understanding distributed creativity: collaborative partnership in the making of ‘Axis Mundi’ (2013) for solo bassoon. CMPCP Performance Studies Network Conference, Cambridge, 4 April 2013.

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