Jaroslav Kyša

On collectivity, interdependence and worlds in relation

"Nothing, not even the wind that blows, 
is so unstable as the level crust of this earth."

Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle
Chapter XV: Chile, 1839

"I am not proposing a return to the Stone Age. My intent is not reactionary, nor even conservative, but simply subversive. It seems that the utopian imagination is trapped, like capitalism and industrialism and the human population, in a one-way future consisting only of growth. All I’m trying to do is figure out how to put a pig on the tracks. Go backward. Turn and return." 

Ursula K. Le Guin
A Non- Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be, 1982

"Time, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality, has no such simple effect upon the mind of man. The mind of man, moreover, works with equal strangeness upon the body of time."

"An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately
represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second."

 Virginia Woolf
Orlando, 1928

Positions and working practices

The act of creating and holding open critical, poetic spaces of reflection, and of imagining possibilities for things to be otherwise, rests at the core of Jaroslav Kyša practice. An insistence on paying attention in the present moment surrounds his work, channeling our capacities to respond: via our response-ability at the level of the senses, memory and imagination; entwined with considerations about the possibilities, urgencies and complexities of taking responsibility politically, socially and ecologically, from within the precarity of our shared global and locally experienced realities.[1]

Working fluidly between sculpture, moving image and site-specific installation, and using a characteristically minimal, poetic economy of means, through his work Kyša produces disruptions and slippages in time and space with the lightest of touch. These ruptures open up imaginative, transformative and at times utopian possibilities both within and beyond the space of contemporary art discourse. His current installations challenge the idea of what an exhibition can be, whether in a gallery, public institution or as performative gesture in public space. 

Hybrid objects held together by fundamental physical forces produce frictions between real, conceptual and fictional spheres. In this way, Kyša opens up spaces that enable us to think twice about previously held certainties. The work acts subtly through metaphor and poetics in response to the contemporary geopolitical moment. Multiple time frames coalesce, producing pauses and spaces in-between, which take equal precedence to materials in motion. Kyša asks, “What is the nature of our connection with the material world? Are we as terrestrial beings determined by the laws of physics? Are physical laws firmly fixed and unchanging, or do they evolve over time? And how do these laws, as defined by science, relate to time as we experience it subjectively?”

Beginnings and tendencies

Jaroslav Kyša was born in Žilina, and studied in Košice at the Faculty of Arts of the Technical University of Košice, in the Intermedia Studio of Free Creativity 3D. He currently lives and works in Bratislava where he also teaches as head of the Department of Intermedia at VŠVU.

From his earliest performative interventions in public space, to later sculptural assemblages, site-specific exhibitions conceived as total environments, to his most recent large-scale video installation, Kyša’s practice is grounded in critical, poetic, perceptual and political preoccupations. His ideas are made manifest through unique aesthetic tendencies informed by a conceptual process of call-and-response, creating echoes and patterns of thought throughout his practice. There is an energy to this ongoing, poetically fragmented and associative process of enquiry through which he seeks the visual, material and durational means through which to articulate an idea. In the process, he opens up possibilities of imagining and entering into ever-new entanglements between contexts, concepts and their realization in space and time. 

From the outset this text contains a paradox, therefore, as to introduce Jaroslav Kyša’s work raises questions of what the recent history of his practice might look like, when his oeuvre fundamentally resists, repels or subverts linear narratives. Instead, due to his iterative, intuitive modes of thinking and working, his gestural approach offers itself up to tracing a situated, subjective web of relations, connections and counterpoints between certain works which aesthetically and conceptually gravitate towards one another. 

Whilst the work resists any single, fixed or stable set of relations, there are distinct phases of research between projects. Two intrinsic concerns run through Kyša’s practice: those of time/temporality/duration, and space/spatiality/site specificity. Resonances across and between these dualities are always present, alongside a commitment to working in a way that is deeply situated, rooted in and responsive to its context, whilst his poetics lift and enable the work to translate transnationally.
 

Methodologies – a polyphony 
Cumulative iterations of ideas; ongoing correspondences with materials

Kyša’s work is informed by polyphonic encounters[2]. Despite the singularity of his artworks his practice asserts the importance of collaboration, which takes shape through sustained conversations, processes of production and speculative enquiry with other artists, curators, writers, cultural practitioners, students or researchers across disciplines. Equally, polyphony runs through his intuitive, poetic engagements with the many non-human materials and environments that constitute his practice.

Generative feedback loops yielded by this way of working have contributed to a recent shift towards increasingly ambitious, large-scale productions and installations. These involve porous co-productions with others, without losing his clarity of voice in the creative process.[3]

‘"Polyphony is music in which autonomous melodies intertwine…we are used to hearing music with a single perspective. When I first heard polyphony it was a revelation in listening. I was forced to pick out separate, simultaneous melodies and to listen for the moments of harmony and dissonance they created together."’[4]

Within these multiple melodies, when visualizing Kyša’s creative practice the metaphor of an iceberg comes to the fore. His minimal, concise artworks will have been informed, by the time they reach the public realm, by wide open periods of research involving rigorous planning and tests carried out over time; through experiments with the behaviour of specific materials, excursions through internal landscapes of thought, and collaborative processes of production on-location. In this way the work often involves entanglements with specific geographies: recently, trans-locally in Slovakia; and in the past on international residencies in Warsaw, Vienna, New York and Slovenia, as well as a period of time based in London. A new residency in New York is forthcoming in 2021. 

Equally, the mycelial lives of mushrooms speak metaphorically to Kyša’s creative, conceptual methodologies. He has described how encounters with specific situations, objects or materials at any given moment can create networks of association that stay with him over time and re-surface in the form of artworks in ever-new combinations. During his first residency in New York, for example, the sight of a calthemite noticed on the NYC metro stayed with him, becoming a metaphor for anthropogenic impact on earth, and resurfacing in his recent artworks Stalactite / Stalagmite, 2018; Degrowth, 2019 and Order of Waves, 2020.

In Kyša’s most recent work a modular, non-narrative video is looped as a large-scale three-screen installation. Conceived in response to an invitation from Ján Koniarek gallery at the Synagogue - Centre for Contemporary Art in Trnava, Slovakia just before the Covid-19 pandemic took hold, the work is concerned with topics that soon surrounded the proliferation of virus. Ecology, globalization and the impacts of climate change are all viewed with a critical attitude towards notions of progress; and through all of which Kyša filters his reflections on the relationship between time, perception and memory. 

Projected onto three identical freestanding screens, the installation is conceived to echo three pairs of columns that mark a progression of space in the synagogue’s central hall. The looping videos run a-synchronously, but are programmed to slip intermittently into precise coordination, and in this syncopation they evoke the experience of a déjà vu or a ‘short circuit in reality’. 

When planning the work, Kyša sought out simple object-based metaphors for time, which he represents through a set of non-human protagonists, each of which are captured on film undergoing transformative states. A meteorite fragment held between tweezers increasingly glows and crackles as its molecular structure shifts in response to intense intermittent heat from a flame, just off-screen; a clay cast of a Neolithic hand-axe is held and then dropped at height into the current of a fast-flowing river; chunks of coal extracted from beneath the surface of the earth’s crust are crushed by a pair of hands on the heights of a peak of the High Tatra mountains; a trilobite fossil many millions of years old is ground down on a circular sander in an accelerated act of erosion; a hole is melted through the centre of a sheet of hexagonal beehive wax; and calthemites are snapped from a concrete underpass in Bratislava – all accumulating signifiers of recent human interventions on this planet, and meditations on extraction and the destruction of natural resources. Viewed together in high definition and in the circular, modular, fragmentary logics of the installation, the work synchronously heightens and interrupts our sense of the current pace of progress and concomitant human impacts on earth.

In this conceptually concise, sculpturally minimal work, Jaroslav Kyša carries forward and revisits an idea initially conceived whilst he was living and working in London in 2012. Framed by anti-colonial thinking and titled 0 Degrees, Kyša writes about this performative intervention in public space, 

"I used a small mirror placed on a telescopic pole, and for a short moment I changed the direction of the laser beam depicting the zero meridian in London's Greenwich."[5]

The gestural aesthetics of Kyša’s intervention in Greenwich open out onto socio-political questions in powerful ways. Through this action he questions his own relationship to power and the UK’s colonial legacies; thinking about the ethics of designating centres in relation to peripheries, and the extent of our capacity to intervene in and deflect dominant narratives.

Four years later, after returning to live and work in Bratislava, a new iteration of this artwork re-surfaced as the installation A-B.[6] Whilst connected with the original idea of a geo-poetic response to the power structures embedded in Greenwich, this sculptural work takes on new layers of meaning, imbued with metaphor and reflections on perception. By evoking the Prime Meridian, A-B creates a site for us to think about time – how it is experienced, how it is measured, and who controls it. 

"Copernicus told us that the earth was not the centre. Darwin told us that man is not the centre. If we listened to the anthropologists we might hear them telling us, with appropriate indirectness, that the White West is not the centre. The centre of the world is a bluff on the Klamath River, a rock in Mecca, a hole in the ground in Greece, nowhere, its circumference is everywhere."

                                                                                                                                                         - Ursula Le Guin, A Non- Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be, 1982

A single metal bar curved into a semi-circular arch is installed between two points, floor to ceiling, forming an echo of the line of the Prime Meridian established by the Royal Observatory in London. With a special motor mechanism designed in collaboration with Jonathan Ravasz, the arched bar rotates, almost imperceptibly slowly yet in constant motion, carving a circuit anti-clockwise in space and mirroring the pace that the earth takes as it rotates on its axis in the opposite direction, clockwise, following the logic of the 24-hour clock.

In the presence of this work, the imagined sensation is one of opposing forces on a planetary scale. Memories of equivalent sensations from our lived experience surface: swimming against a strong sea current and seemingly staying still, or walking along a moving train carriage in the opposite direction to its motion.

Visually, our mind’s eye intuitively completes the arc drawn in space by A-B, filling in the gap by conjuring the second half of the semi-circle towards a resolved geometric form. In this way, as a viewer on-screen or a body-in-space in the gallery, whilst we trace this imaginary line we are left with a pressing sense of potentiality, a feeling of the almost-complete, or the yet-to-be-resolved. This is an impulse that fuels Kyša’s creative process, and informs his ongoing research, spanning the uncertainties and scientific unknowns that make up a large part of our experience on earth, from Dark Matter to quantum physics and deep ecology. 

From a heightened state of sensory awareness, the political urgencies embedded in the work open up as we shift from the image of an abstract sphere to that of the globe turning in space, and the metaphor of stopping, reorienting, turning against the accelerating tides and currents of neoliberal notions of progress, inextricably tied up with linear clock time, industrialisation and the homogenising forces of globalisation. 

Kyša writes,

"The curved metal rod turns opposite to the movement of the Prime Meridian in Greenwich in England, and thereby I create an imaginary frozen abscissa in space. The viewer is not conscious of the movement, just as mankind is often not conscious of our impact on the planet. This utopian antimemorial / antimonument is a metaphor of the temporal and geological epoch we have been experiencing – the Anthropocene."
 

In this way, A-B insists on the presence of the viewer’s attention through a radical act of slowing down; a sense of suspended animation is produced by imagined opposing gravitational forces, and by bringing together heterogeneous temporalities that resist linear time. 

The urgency felt by Kyša of attending to these issues translates in the multiple material forms of his works. The process of connection and transmission strikes us first at a sensory level, yielding curiosity and an expansion of ideas, from where it then becomes possible to begin to ask new questions and imagine alternatives to the status quo. 

Similar strategies consistently play out through Kyša’s practice, where seemingly slight gestures suggest seismic gravitational shifts. Hybrid objects held together by basic physical laws produce frictions between real, conceptual and fictional spheres. In sculptures such as New Poles (2015) Bust (2018) Bloc (2015) and Antiobject (2018), magnets are embedded in his materials, hidden from view in order to maintain an illusion as they repel and hold one another apart, often quivering as the objects hover and magnetic currents circulate. In this way, fundamental physical forces facilitate the production of poetic gaps, pauses and spaces in-between, which take equal precedence to solid objects and materials in motion. 

Accompanying each of Kyša’s gestural assemblages is an invitation to imagine things otherwise; to ask questions and reassess daily assumptions. Just beneath the surface, a spirit of existential enquiry accompanies urgently felt acts of opening up such spaces to reflect on our commonly held certainties – not least in times of increasing conditions of global precarity within neoliberal life and work.

In this way, Kyša’s practice strikes resonant chords with the work of political theorist Isobel Lorey, where she describes ‘today’s politico-economic regime of precarisation’, and raises fundamental questions about how, whether, and through what means the current global economy of accelerated labour might be paused, held in its tracks, or interrupted and re-directed.[7]

An instance of this rings through Kyša’s New Poles, where two model globes are held in close relation to one another; at once together and apart. Both globes have been rotated to rest slightly off the north-south axes we are accustomed to. One hangs from the ceiling, the other is suspended from the floor, with taught threads holding them in fragile balance via the forces of attraction between two magnets inside each sphere. 

The space created between these two alternatively aligned globes opens up a pause for reflection. Thoughts shift towards Jules Verne’s science fictional Journey to the Centre of the Earth; or to Charles Darwin’s statement preceding his theory of evolution from aboard ship, somewhere on the coast of Chile circa 1938: ‘Nothing, not even the wind that blows, is so unstable as the level crust of this earth.’ 

Contemporary geopolitical shifts and ecological urgencies continue to occupy the foreground of Kyša’s work, where he draws upon geology both for material and metaphor. 

In Stalactite / Stalagmite, Kyša presents a fragile found object that accumulated slowly, amongst a cluster of many others, underneath the edge of a motorway bridge on the outskirts of Bratislava. This calthemite grew from the residue of grime and grit bound between layers of calcium carbonate as water dripped through surface cracks in its concrete host above, while catching exhaust fumes rising from the road below. 

Growing approximately 1cm per year, and at 50cm long, it may be half a century old. Yet formally it echoes stalactites that occur naturally in caves over vast geological timeframes. This condensed, ‘natural’ form made possible by humans is interrupted and dislocated from its road-side setting; rotated, and set intermittently in motion in this kinetic sculptural work as a metaphor for growth, productivity, progress and human impact on earth in our current era of the capitolocene.[8]

The work evokes Donna Harraway’s Cyborg Manifesto, 1985, in which she considers the frictions increasingly felt on the borderlines between organic and machine-made worlds. She writes,

"In the traditions of ‘Western’ science and politics — the tradition of progress; the tradition of the appropriation of nature as resource for the productions of culture; the tradition of reproduction of the self from the reflections of the other — the relation between organism and machine has been a border war. The stakes in the border war have been the territories of production, reproduction, and imagination."[9]

Through the strength of imaginative production, reflection and action, Kyša invites no less than a fundamental reevaluation of our relationship with space and time; opening up ever-new spaces in which to imagine things otherwise; to think of physical and psychological reality as more flexible, light and mutable than they otherwise might seem.

In Bust, 2018 a small metal ball bearing traces a path around the circumference of the bust of a human head cast in plaster, mounted on a galvanized steel support structure. Following its fragile yet seemingly inevitable movement along its fixed path we consider celestial bodies gravitationally aligned; the pressure of magnetic force interrupted by resistant materials; and the myth of Cyclops.

Between chalky surface and the ball’s metallic membrane, a line is gradually scored across eye level, mirroring our own line of sight. Caught in a perpetual process of erosion and transformation, the ball bearing loses mass in tiny quantities with each circuit drawn on the surface of the bust. This sensitive, transformative reciprocity between materials speaks to Anna Lauehaupt Tsing’s notes on ‘Contamination as Collaboration’:

"Collaboration means working across difference, which leads to contamination … We are contaminated by our encounters; they change who we are as we make way for others… everyone carries a history of contamination; purity is not an option."’[10]

As one small sphere orbits another and we trace these movements on the surface of the bust, cracks and fingerprints come into focus - traces of overlapping timeframes, where the imprint of a finger meeting soft material meets the slow transformation of plaster hardening over time. Over time it becomes apparent that a magnet revolving inside the bust must be drawing the ball along. We become conceptually complicit with the work, as a viewer our presence completes the circuit that Kyša has set in motion and yet even so, through its automation we’re aware of its indifference to our presence; that it will continue to circulate with or without us - that is, so long as the current resources of electricity fuelling its motion remain in constant supply. 

A small, softly rounded stone hovers at the far end of a taught metal thread. Resting horizontally in mid-air, this rock seems somehow to have been momentarily frozen in its tracks, fixed in its line of flight. A freestanding aluminum frame holds it in here place; the stone a few centimeters from its inner edge, accompanied by an enduring sense of suspense. Everything stays still. All attention gathers around this single empty space, invisibly filled with magnetic force, caught between a rock and a hard place.

On first encountering this sculptural work by Jaroslav Kyša, the impulse is to imagine both the frame and suspended stone rotating in order for everything to make simple gravitational sense: to turn these objects at a right angle, anti-clockwise, ninety degrees southwards. In the mind’s eye this perspective correction is almost imperceptibly performed in response to the impossible physics at play. The rock, fastened to the end of its thread, would hang vertically from the support above, hovering at about ankle height to the ground. Yet despite this imagined movement, the objects themselves stay insistently still. Curiosity sets in around the means of production involved in this gravitational shift. The physical gap that holds our attention translates temporally as a pause; or a space-in-time that offers itself up to be filled by the imagination of a viewer.

Shifting focus to the work’s title, David, offers an alternative navigational tool with which to approach it from another perspective. From objects in space to words on a page, and onwards to other imagined fictional spheres, this title shifts out of the material present to the myth of David and Goliath – time travelling to the moment long after David’s stone left its sling to wing its way towards the giant’s head. There is a double sense of tension in these split seconds before a collision: both here and now, where the stone will not ever quite meet its frame, and fictionally there and then where David’s mythic blow remains forever yet-to-be-struck. 

Rain, 2018 exists in two iterations as a sculptural object and a site-specific installation. In the spatial and temporal configuration of the exhibition Fifth Force at Zahorian & Van Espen gallery in Prague, it inhabited an in-between, indeterminate space on the gallery windows where reoriented raindrops had seemingly been stopped in their tracks whilst tracing a path upwards. On this translucent threshold, gravity appears to have been flipped and set to work in reverse, producing a liminal space where the inner time frames of the exhibition rested up against views out onto on Šmeralova street and the flow of daily life beyond. 

A single drip of honey makes its way down a white wall, having fallen from a small, seemingly uninhabited wooden beehive that hangs just below head-height. This drip fell at the end of Kyša’s exhibition I was keeping it all safe for you at Zahorian & Van Espen Gallery, Bratislava, in 2019. More drips from the hive followed, leaving the trace of their descent, caught on camera as a photographic record in perpetuity. You couldn’t have observed their movement in real time, unless staying close to the work for hours, or days on end after the close of the show. 

In the tension created by this work, there is an echo of Kyša’s earlier installation A-B, created site-specifically for the same gallery space almost three years earlier. The decolonising metaphor circling A-B of a resistance to our often too-distant awareness of ecological urgencies on earth is carried forward in Last Beehive. Yet this time the message translates more literally through Kyša’s poetic gesture of re-locating to the gallery the ‘found object’ of a beehive: evacuated, we learn, due to being under occupation by an invasive moth parasite, the galleria mellonella or honeycomb moth. Meanwhile the title, ‘Last Beehive’, transports us to a fictional dystopian future where the fine balance between bees and their parasitic invaders has swung finally out of control. Meanwhile in summer 2019, throughout the real-time duration of the exhibition, as days passed by the moth larvae ate their way through the wax of their hexagonal host, until ultimately they hatched out into the space of the gallery, where they lived for anything up to twelve days. 

"Time, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality, has no such simple effect upon the mind of man. The mind of man, moreover, works with equal strangeness upon the body of time."

"An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second."

- Virginia Woolf
Orlando, 1928

Resonating through Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, Kyša’s enduring poetic preoccupations with the nature of time comes to the fore in this work, enmeshing perception with ecology; politics with aesthetics. In the fractionally less-than-static situation of this living hive/host, multiple real and imagined, heterogeneous timeframes and velocities coalesce. When reflecting on the length of the moths’ germination and lifespan, or the duration of honey slowly dripping, the pace of human thought or movements through daily life seem accelerated. In transplanting the hive, Kyša points to the urgency of the plight of its former bee inhabitants. We consider the work involved in the production of their honeycomb environment; and the artistic labour of producing the artwork, entangled later with art workers’ acts of holding open, taking care of the exhibition environment, and visitors implicated in these encounters. The fragility of the balance of interconnected ecosystems oscillates through the installation. Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing writes, ‘it is in this dilemma [of ecosystem decline, following capitalist modes of accelerated, monocultural production] that new tools for noticing seem so important. Indeed, life on earth seems at stake.’[11] Through his work, Jaroslav Kyša gives us a multiplicity of new tools for noticing. 

Lily Hall
January 2020

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Bibliography

Donna Haraway, Cyborg Manifesto, Socialist Review, 1985
Donna Haraway, Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene (Experimental Futures), Duke University Press, 2016
Ursula K. Le Guin, A Non- Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be, 1982, Reprinted in the Spring 2010 issue of Fifth Estate in Ursula K. Le Guin, Dancing at the Edge of the World, London: Gollancz, 1989.
Isobel Lorey, State of Insecurity. Government of the Precarious, Verso, 2015
Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, Princeton University Press, 2015
Virginia Woolf, Orlando, Hogarth Press, 1928

[1] This text has been written from London in winter 2020, at a time when collaborations across Europe are under unprecedented pressure, with assertions of sovereignty and ideologies of autonomy yielding a rising tide of new nationalisms Europe-wide. In response to these conditions, the necessities of narratives of entanglement, interdependence and collaboration so present in Jaroslav Kyša’s work are felt more urgently than ever. 

The global pandemic has withheld the possibility of physical proximity for many; and in-between conditions of local, national and international lockdown, seeing Kyša’s most recent work in person has been the unique privilege of those living locally to each site of display. The context of this text on ARTBASE therefore acts as a much-needed portal for research held in digital space, enabling open, creative exchanges through transnational channels of communication for all those at a physical remove from the work.

[2] The use of polyphony to think through Jaroslav Kyša’s work is informed by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing’s recent research and writing, articulated in The Mushroom at the End of the World: on the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, chapters 1-3.

[3] The notion of polyvocality also speaks to the way in which this text has been informed by the work of many other artists, curators and writers who each – across different time-scales and depths of engagement - have been in correspondence with Jaroslav Kyša and his practice over the years. To name just a few, Erik Villim, Jan Kralovič, Mira Keratová, Michal Stolárik, Leontína Berková, Lucia Sceranková, Silvia van Espen, Jozef Zahorian, Ivana Rumanová – all of whose voices have been present at different moments whilst thinking through Kyša’s work and its wider implications, either directly in conversation or through reading their writing. Our exchanges are always informed by the content and resonances of these collaborations, across geographies and in translation, in open-ended spirits of enquiry.  

[4] Lowenhaupt Tsing, A., The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, Princeton University Press, 2015, p. 23

[5] The Prime Meridian is an imagined, invisible semi-circle that starts at Greenwich and runs vertically around the world. It is used to measure time, and was created in 1884 following a vote by 25 countries including the UK, whose heads of state wanted to create a ‘standard time’ as a means of controlling the movement of people and goods around the world. Before this date, each city worldwide would decide for themselves how long an hour or a day should be. The Meridian was therefore a rational, abstract articulation of time and space, positioning the UK at the centre of the earth, thereby rendering other territories in continuous, relative delay. 

[6] A-B was conceived and designed as an installation in response to the context and architectural proportions of Zahorian & Van Espen gallery in Bratislava. Since its initial site-specific installation in Bratislava in 2016, A-B has also been exhibited at MeetFactory, Prague, in the international group show Time after Time, 2017, curated by Jaro Varga and Zuzana Jakalová.

[7] Lorey, I., State of Insecurity. Government of the Precarious, Verso, London, 2015

[8] Donna Haraway, Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene (Experimental Futures), Duke University Press, 2016

[9] Donna Harraway, Cyborg Manifesto, Socialist Review, 1985

[10] Lowenhaupt Tsing, A., The Mushroom at the End of the World, 2015, p. 28

[11] Lowenhaupt Tsing, A. ‘Arts of Noticing’ in The Mushroom at the End of the World, p.25