future friend/ships


Offered here is some material I have been using to create simultaneously an idiot manifesto called Arab Future Fiction and a piece with Keith Hennessy called future friend/ships, a nonarchetypal tarot deck, a celebration of female arab death poetry, a series of paintings about Donna Haraway, an exploration of the friendship between broken objects
"Irony is about the tension of holding incompatible things together because both or all are necessary and true. Irony is about humor and serious play. It is also a rhetorical strategy and a political method." 
Donna Haraway - First test space monkey
Hospitality is the name of our game.

The more otherness hosts otherness, the more we generate potential for transformation. The more the future will be surprising. We are oracles and oracle making machines.
The arab future fiction is a house/space ship for all of us: tides, scarabs, planets, poets, tellurian forces, astronomers.
If there is no hope around here, we might as well become space dwellers. And since we cannot build proper space ships yet (if ever), well then we can invent them in our minds, and share them as immaterial objects. arab future fiction is not an identity/cultural project around the preservation of some glorious past or special Arab identity. It borrows from the absolute chaos, the madness, the desperation, the hospitality to strangers and strange things. Our tools are migration, misunderstanding, and multiplication of political machines unfolding inside our political subconscious.

Arab future fiction aspects its gestures towards politics of friendship - high friendship: between strangers, freight trains and minerals, figures in our dreams and mathematical ensembles, murals in caverns and tools abandoned in dark corners. The arab future fiction is also a hike inside the absurdity of the Arab world. It is also a hike outside of it, freeing us from the old rags of identity, and throwing us into the promising future of eclectic affinities. We have irony. We have deep dark tides. We have poetry. We will build space crafts. The name arab in arab future fiction is here to attract and to confuse. It is imperfect, it is broken.  

Arab Future Fiction: the Call for Interstellar Friend/Ship 



 “We walked among the smashed machines and looked through undrugged eyes
for engines of another war
and an attrition of the soul and the device.
With craft and plane and ship,
And gun and drone and field we played
We wrote an allegory of our regress
In other people’s tears and blood;
These are the tentative poetics of our rise.”
Ian Banks – The Player, adapted by Jassem Hindi

In 1950 we started a series of paintings entitled: Donna Haraway as the mythical city of Baghdad. With our future seeing night goggles and with the help of legendary oriental fatalism, we were able to predict the fate of the Arab cities. Baghdad, capital of poetry and gin tonic, would be torn apart, transfigured into lunch, to be devoured by a giant lion. Damascus, herald of political theater, would become an arena of wild fire, burning its own children and its legendary palaces. Beyrouth, the magical teapot of journalism and spear of the feminist wave, would retract like an old apricot. Trablos, Marrakech, Oran, Tizi Ouzou, Adis Abbeba, Aden, Sour, Homs, Halab, Iskandaria, Tikrit, Bent Jbail, Tabouk, Wadi Sha7rour etc etc etc…
Using painting as a divination technique, and thanks to our sensitive little radar ears, we could extract the truth of our destiny from what was then only a frown on the desert’s brow.


Haraway inspired a rigorous practice of transformation, drawing the first lines of what the politics of friendship might entail. She reminded us that the treasure of the Arab world was its sense of hospitality and generosity, that we were not afraid of hosting the stranger within our midst, that we were not afraid of claiming that we were of no country, and that we had always hosted all cultures.
Unfortunately, the real Middle of the East perceives itself as a place with no future, with nothing to offer that isn’t tainted by sadness or madness.
We think of ourselves as incapable of performing the simple gestures of hospitality. We invoke our wars, our misery, and our home in ruins. Every situation hides a series of impossible tasks. The fragile status of women, the aggressive meddling of imperial interests, the pressure of wild capitalism, the corruption, the prejudices, the lack of historical understanding… All these stones in our way have made it impossible to imagine a future.


 
The question is:
What is left for us to offer?
The answer is:
Our capacity to tell stories. Our capacity to charm our friends with our imagination.
Our capacity to help them slip into the night.

كان يا ما كان في قديم الزمان هلآ منحكي وبعد شويه منام
We need a fictional future. We need a new tent to host our guests, or a cave, a shack, a pyramid, a dome, or a hammam. We want to be the astronauts of our territories, and we will walk all the way, from Detroit to Ramallah – in space suits if we have to.
We want an inter-stellar program, with a time travel department, a gender disruption department, a department for the satellites of solitude, a great animal reconciliation program, a research facility for biological and non-biological presences, and a particle accelerator capable of clashing metaphors against metaphors.
…and under starry nights, wrapped in blankets of unlikely friendship, in the middle of our imaginary oasis, we will rest and brew some kind of amazing teas made out of queer plants we’ll have gathered in our adventures.
For us, the words of Captain Picard resonate strangely, as a promise of joy and hospitality:
“Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Arab friend/ship. Its eternal mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.”

TRAILER:


Written by Jassem Hindi - in collaboration with Keith Hennessy
Images by Jassem Hindi and Anja Beutler
 

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