This text will take you perhaps 5 minutes to read. Stop reading and take this time to write instead, ideally a manifesto. Dig deeply, write quickly, then nail it to the door of a church with an iron spike. Any church will do: this is why churches have doors.

1: “We have manufactured death with such perfection that life feels counterfeit. The result that the exact moment when the act of atrocity begins now eludes us, as does its end, or its limit. The sum and potential of human behavior presses on the imagination with a new kind of darkness. Like science and politics, our words have betrayed us: our languages, our silences, complicit in our violent and complex poverty. Now we think of knowledge as that form which we must escape in order to create, to find a place to call a beginning, and another place to call an end. No matter how responsible, irresponsible, how personal, wise or innocent, how clear or unintelligible our creations, we feel they commune in devalued currencies, in criminally suspect vocabularies. No matter how much we write, we are left with the feeling there is more to say.” From Matthew Goulish’s 39 Mirolectures in Proximity of Performance 2000

2: *“And now these dogs, feral descendants of our feral fellow-travelers, still feel an impulse, strangely compounded of hunger and desire to please, at the sound of a whistle. They live in spirited thrall to their frightened curiosity - the tragic and unavoidable compulsion that drags some of us towards the inamicable.” -From Matthew Battles _The Call of the Feral

A steady, decades long project: the attempted dissolution of boundaries and barriers. Koolhaas and Goulish both note the elevator as destructive force: a transgressor and crosser of boundaries that destroys the theatre of architecture, “undermining the doctrine that there must always be an architectural means to shape transitions.” The installation of elevators, the running of fiber-optics, infrastructures of transition and transferral. Essential to our lives. Never to be used in case of emergency.

There is little left of our cultural or physical institutions, our infrastructure or financial arrangements that make sense: each echo an ancient worldview (dead or having never existed) which assumes a static mythology of permanence and establishment: our borders carved in blood and bone, statues cast in bronze, cities built on rock. A struggle to prop up the crumbling mythology of command-and-control, undermined by the systems’ very own survival technique of distribution and decentralization.

There are forces which patrol these borders ruthlessly and there is much that depends upon them, but for those of us that seek life worth living we recognize in everything a kind of raw material: an ordinary practice which embraces possibilities. This quest, this state of being, we call the feral.

The feral embraces porous borders, it pokes holes in fences, it smuggles ideas across enemy lines.

The feral revels in cities built on landfill, memorials made of postcards.

The feral accepts overlapping territories marked in tears, or piss, or string (but only as a framework for transgression.)

The feral does not justify.

The feral does not wait for approval, it contributes without fear or irony.

The feral does not belong. Thus the feral is always unwelcome,
but in it remains the only hope for change.

Everything we experience is mediated,
by our technologies, our senses, our cultures, our selves

Everything we share is mediated,
by our technologies, our senses, our cultures, our selves

To be feral is to live directly, which is impossible.

This impossibility is the core of our approach.

The feral recognizes the feral.

Ferality is a kind of immersion: a gathering of self into a tight spiral that enables traversal. The feral is self sustaining, but matter is not conserved.

There is always a cost.

No to the static, the stable, the established, no to fascism and organization.
No also to the cult of the new, the regimentation of space and of mind.
No to polemics of left and right: The spectrum is a circle.

No to the cult of the individual.
No to personal brands,
No to spectacle,
No to hierarchy,
No to monitization,
No to accreditation, permission,
copyright, digital rights management, intellectual property,
ironic detachment,
supremacy (of anything).

No to gender, appropriate categories, tagging systems, curation.

Yes to falling deeply in love with everything.
Yes to fucking and fucking shit up.
Yes to growling and biting and proclamation.
Yes to unmediated experience,
Yes to loving what will destroy you.
Yes to setting yourself on fire when there is nothing left to burn.
Yes to theft.
Yes to the inevitability of failure.

Yes to the problematic, the complex, the contradictory and the dangerous:
these things are true.