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	<title>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</title>
	<link>https://journalofartandecology.com</link>
	<description>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</description>
	<pubDate>Tue, 06 Dec 2022 16:29:11 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>Home</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Home</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 14:54:04 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

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		<description>The Journal of Art &#38;amp; Ecology is the online publication platform of the MA Art &#38;amp; Ecology at Goldsmiths.Each annual edition presents creative practice and critical reflection on the artistic research of the graduating cohort.




	
&#60;img width="1120" height="1596" width_o="1120" height_o="1596" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d4d33dbe44beeb947e3a32774a93878b784b757db3efb672e260e671fd8e59d5/_Cover_Project-Journal_Reg_2025_EDIT-DEC.jpg" data-mid="241280279" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d4d33dbe44beeb947e3a32774a93878b784b757db3efb672e260e671fd8e59d5/_Cover_Project-Journal_Reg_2025_EDIT-DEC.jpg" /&#62;Volume 4: 
December 2025



	&#60;img width="1120" height="1596" width_o="1120" height_o="1596" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/01d2a95bc9861ab6053cd730dbbbd851c6da35b026cf15a7caf7e23e97e5be15/Cover_300_SM_Vol3_111.jpg" data-mid="222572405" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/01d2a95bc9861ab6053cd730dbbbd851c6da35b026cf15a7caf7e23e97e5be15/Cover_300_SM_Vol3_111.jpg" /&#62;Volume 3: 
December 2024

 
	&#60;img width="1120" height="1581" width_o="1120" height_o="1581" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ae986152b49e82ef63412940821608a7d404562eb84ea1feefc1fc70dd8576f0/Cover_300_Font1.png" data-mid="198192949" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ae986152b49e82ef63412940821608a7d404562eb84ea1feefc1fc70dd8576f0/Cover_300_Font1.png" /&#62;
Volume 2: December 2023

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Volume 1: December 2022


	Events:
&#60;img width="2582" height="3650" width_o="2582" height_o="3650" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/88f263c734f6e850722f2595691e48997cf06a436bb3b61e115fc3fbc703ee17/CAA_Cover-website.jpg" data-mid="171101298" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/88f263c734f6e850722f2595691e48997cf06a436bb3b61e115fc3fbc703ee17/CAA_Cover-website.jpg" /&#62;Spectres in Change: Site-Senstive Art-Science Research in the Archipelago Sea Symposium 13.02.23


	
	
	
The MA Art &#38;amp; Ecology is a fifteen-month studio-based postgraduate programme for emerging artists who engage in meaningful and transformative ways with the most pressing ecological questions of our time. From its location in South East London, it seeks to develop new ways in which contemporary art can make interventions in a wide range of ecological contexts and expand the ways in which ecology is understood. 
Further information about the programme and how to apply can be found here.</description>
		
	</item>
		
		
	<item>
		<title>Volume 1</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Volume-1</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:31:14 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

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		<description>
	Volume 1
</description>
		
	</item>
		
		
	<item>
		<title>Introduction</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Introduction</link>

		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Dec 2022 13:42:18 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://journalofartandecology.com/Introduction</guid>

		<description>
An Ecology of Many Worlds



 



Over fifteen months of the MA Art &#38;amp; Ecology, this first
cohort have developed compelling bodies of artistic work and deep
understandings of how ecological thought is situated, historical and embodied.
While the ‘Man’ centred within imperial ecology still looms large in mainstream
environmentalism, the sensibilities that emerge here are migratory, queer,
feminist, working-class, butch, sensitive and enraged. There is a striving to
decolonise, to heal and reconnect, grounded in awareness that the commons is
not only that which historically has been marginalised or dispossessed, but
that it encompasses the planetary commons – earth, water, air – that binds us
all. Commoning, therefore, is understood as a fundamentally contemporary
strategy of survival and flourishing – to be found in recipes passed across
generations, in folklore re-animated with a flash of neon, in digital
dissemination and forms of occulture. While informed by a pluriverse of theory,
there is a profound attention to the somatic and the everyday, to fermenting
transformations that hone sensory acuteness and call for new descriptions of
the sensorial world. 



 



The artists gathered here recognise artistic materials not
only as political in relation to the human labour involved in their production,
but also in terms of their sustainability and cultural significance. They have
investigated the extent to which the entities that materials derive from – be
it mineral, animal or plant – are gathered with care and reciprocity, recalling
Robin Wall Kimmerer’s account of the ‘honourable harvest’, or are manufactured
through systems of extraction enabled by a colonial mindset. Material
afterlives is a crucial theme, and understanding how, as Max Liboiron argues,
pollution is colonialism, has been essential. 
There are difficult reckonings
with inheritance – who benefits? who is dispossessed? what are the
possibilities for justice given enduring inequities? But afterlives can take
other paths to denaturalise extractivism, with practices of investigation,
attention, gleaning and repurposing that may enact a re-enchantment, focus
attention on what has been lost, or imagine how things might be otherwise.
Might a product made from timber be understood to retain within it the spirit
of a tree? As the sixth extinction unfolds, these artists find themselves using
their creative powers to reimagine relations with the more-than-human world, to
rage but also to organise, to recognise the resistance of matter and the power
of joy, to hold a space for that which does not speak, to whisper with ghosts
and dragons.



 



Ros Gray



Programme Director, MA Art &#38;amp; Ecology
Back</description>
		
	</item>
		
		
	<item>
		<title>Fatima Alaiwat</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Fatima-Alaiwat</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:40:52 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://journalofartandecology.com/Fatima-Alaiwat</guid>

		<description>
	

&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; Fatima 
Alaiwat
	


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&#38;nbsp;
	


















&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp;&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp;







	

















compos[t]ing rhythms with 
bokashi

	Over the past year, I have developed a bokashi practice - a
method of fermentation-composting - centred around the composting of orange
peels. This has involved being enveloped in various transmutations and
intoxicating citrusy events. My contributions to this process have included
ripping fresh peels into the bin layered with bokashi bran, burying fermented
peels in soil, and attuning my senses to the wafting scents of hot soil, fungal
aromas and decayed oranges. Performing the various tasks needed to sustain the
bokashi released worlds of ‘sensory events’ that ruptured and permeated my home
space - like the arrival of guests or seasons that would last for days or weeks
in various volumes - my awareness dipping in and out with their shifts and
intensities.



The image above
represents a compilation of sensory
events, constituting a host of entangled, overlapping, tangential and
spiralling connections. With the awareness &#38;nbsp;that ‘what soil is thought to be affects the
ways in which it is cared for, and vice versa, modes of care have effects in
what soils become’ (Bellacasa 2017, 170), I question how sensory intimacy with
composting might serve as a way to lay down, cultivate and transform stories of
belonging, whilst also practically improving the quality of soils that
physically nourish our bodies.



The composting process is one that involves constant
tinkering and amending: much like a recipe yet, in the case of bokashi, it is
never complete. As a regenerative process, bokashi exists in constant cyclical
rhythms. When the bokashi soil became too wet, I added cardboard and leaves.
When there were too many pot worms, I added egg shells. The more we are
required to tinker, the more we extend knowledge and experience, with
potentially transformative effects on how we relate to waste, materiality and
the spaces we inhabit. This continuous practice invites us to think about human
engagement as a part of nature. There is no outcome, but a continuous process
of seeking balance.



This embodies a key modality in my practice: a fascination
for exploring dynamics of cyclical activations within the everyday, relating
with our biological survival. This has continued to guide me towards the realms
of the intimate, somatic, sensuous and body-centred ‘re/skilling’, as both practical and poetic
modalities for exploring belonging and healing - or rather, ‘harm reduction’
(Kinnunen 2021) for alienated bodies, as well as quieter modes of resistance in
the face of geopolitical issues and environmental crises.
 Sandor Katz suggests that one of the most damaging aspects of
our dominant food system is that it ‘deskills and disempowers peoples,
distancing us from the natural world and making us completely dependent on
systems of mass production and distribution’ (Katz 2020, 18). Optimistically, I
question if cultivating more body-centred senses of belonging reskills us in
earth-based epistemologies, that feel pertinent to building resilience in the
face of environmental crises and fragile global food systems. Slowly, we
ferment radical intimate relations with and in the homogenous and global.






Intimacy is an important and grounding aspect of my working
process. I investigate how non-normative bonds with the more-than-human might
facilitate accessible polycultures of knowledge, and provide alternative
approaches to climate justice to that of the technocratic and scientific,
despite dispossession. In his essay On
Intimacy with Soils, Devon Peña talks about how his grandmother’s
relationship with soil ‘encouraged are-membering of the body by means of affiliation with the land’ (Peña 2019,
277) and allowed her ‘to develop a deeper, more relational sense of place…[and]
sense of partnership with the soil despite being far removed from any ancestral
lands’ (Peña 2019, 277-278). When land is not owned and/or not home; how might
we facilitate connection through caring for earth? I wish cultivating intimacy
within small-scale, domestic composting as a way to foster a form of access and
connection to land for alienated bodies, with the view that ‘the opposite of
dispossession is not possession. It is not an accumulation. It is unforgetting.
It is mattering’ (Morrill et al. 2016, 2). How can mattering be understood
through bokashi as we reclaim soil relations through co-production in our home?



To be intimate with waste and microorganisms, as I propose
with bokashi, opens a particular territory of reconfiguring relations with
industrial food systems and the non-human, as a way to ‘craft new imaginaries
for knowing, living and being with waste’ (Kinnunen 2021, 79). Caring for waste
and, furthermore, sharing space in the home resists attitudes of ‘distance,
disposability, and denial’ (Hawkins 2006, 16). How can this offer a way to
shift understanding of belonging withand as part of nature, rather than within human social structures -
particularly when social structures are ‘hostile to any attempt to put the
individual back where he belonged’ (Fanon 1964, 53)?



How can a better representation and reverence for embodied
knowledges serve to resist dominant capitalist, consumerist, colonial
structures by seeking to attune with other forms of knowing, living, relating
and learning? I question how ‘bring[ing] cognition down to earth’ (Mol 2021,
28) might better address complex issues that stem from such structures, by
seeking to get closer to embodied and non-verbal forms of human intelligence. I
do not propose this as a direct alternative to cognitive and intellectual
modalities, but rather to think with how ‘the intellectual monoculture of
science will be replaced with a polyculture of complementary knowledges’
(Kimmerer 2013, 139). 







I wish to connect these words with the sensory events shared
in the initial image compilation. Through personal experiences of living with
bokashi in my home, I examine the intersection of probiotic, composting and
embodied methodologies. Though the events were varied and extended to broadly
embodied relationships, for the purpose of this writing, I focus primarily on
scent and touch, as predominant features of living and relating with bokashi.
	

	


























	








rip orange peels and

layer in the bin
 






sensing scents


fractured re/collections
	

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 Ripping orange peels to layer in the bin was a deeply
energising sensory event. The oils erupted visibly as mist - softly drenching
my body and surrounding elements in fresh zesty notes and gentle moist
landings. The smell of citrus invoked for me very&#38;nbsp; potent memories of an ‘elsewhere past’
(Chariandy 2007, 813), of particular people and places. I reflect on what it
might mean to process particular foods and ingredient combinations when making
bokashi, as one would with a recipe. As anyone who has had a cold can attest
to, it is smell that mostly gives food its taste. To this end, a recipe or dish
could be viewed as a curation of smell. How can this intense engagement with
scent be translated to the context of curating waste smell with bokashi? Could living with a particular,
augmenting smell, one that has a resonance with a practitioner’s cultural
memory, serve as a way to cultivate belonging?



In The Politics of
Taste and Smell: Palestinian Rites of Return,&#38;nbsp; Ben-Ze'ev, Efrat discusses how ‘being able to
make Msakhan everywhere you go has become a way of remaining Palestinian’
(Ben-Ze'ev 2004, 153). Though making certain foods has powerful associations
with connecting people to cultures and home, I question how this applies in the
context of waste. Unlike a fresh meal, which is ephemeral upon consumption,
bokashi waste stays in the home. The waste is fermented and then buried, making
the smells both ephemeral and lingering. I question how the smells of rot,
decay and unprocessed ingredients of a particular recipe might capture the pain
and potentiality of surviving and continuity in adversity. How might viewing
bokashi practice as a mode of ‘cooking’ enable new ways of ‘recreating the
features of a place to which one cannot return’ (Ben-Ze'ev, 153)? As fermented
smells change, it is also a context that can push one to relating with smell in
transit and transformation - a process in creating, changing and letting go.
I’m interested in how such ephemeral and lingering practices can channel
cultural memory.









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To think further with notions of cultural memory, I engage
with the idea of collecting waste over time, and how that might relate to recollection of memory. Initially, with
my bokashi oranges, the familiar citrus scents invited fresh memories to
coexist in my space: of Moroccan desserts, places, groves and street carts. As
the fermentation process developed, these fresh familiar scents gradually began
to take strange forms and I experienced them as ‘neither remnant, document, nor
relic of the past, nor floating in a present cut off from the past’, but rather
‘links the past to the present and future’ (Bal 1999, vii). How might
recreating smells within transformative practices create new assemblages that
can help facilitate belonging as an alien body?
	

	



















	sprinkle bokashi bran



like dusting a table
to roll dough






ways of touchingmuscle, memory



 fluid barriersall that is alive
	I use my hands directly to feel the bokashi process when
layering the waste and bokashi bran, then press it well to ensure there is no
air. Afterwards I experience a tingling sensation in my hands. The bokashi bran
creates a reaction in my skin that causes my hands to tingle, what feels like
an echo of the touching process lasting long after I’ve stopped touching the
bokashi. 


Touch is a powerful set of sensory experiences, with our
fingers containing a significant amount of nerve endings that can sense a
variety of different forms of touch: ‘some nerve endings recognise itch, others
vibration, pain, pressure and texture. And one exists solely to recognise a
gentle stroking touch’ (Cocozza 2018). How can developing more nuanced
knowledges of touch, as well as touching more often, foster a body-centred
sense of connection to place and belonging?


How does becoming physically entangled with a process through
hands, rather than tools, offer a more connected experience and thus sense of
belonging? In The Body Keeps the Score,
Van Der Kolk discusses the notion of ‘sensory insensibility’ relating to a
woman who suffered from PTSD, where she described how ‘it seems to me that I
never actually reach the objects which I touch’ (Van der Kolk 2014, 82). Though
this example makes a particular reference to trauma, I question how this can be
understood in a wider sense. How might touch enable alienated bodies to ‘reach’
foreign land and distant homes? How might intimate touch with the non-human
address sensory insensibility in the face of alienated experience?
Touch has been described as a form of species recognition
(Cocozza 2018), that helps us to define distinctions and connections between
self and other. I question how developing intimate touch with the
more-than-human might facilitate an investigation of a less binary notion of
self and of ‘other’. Furthermore, how might ‘species recognition’ extend beyond
human relations? Studies have shown that touching soil, due to particular
bacterias commonly found in soils, can increase serotonin production in the
brain.1 How might this permeating exchange between human skin and
soil be understood as an intimate relationship? How does intimacy relate with
modes of care?
	

	


















&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp;&#38;nbsp;
	

if the soil gets too
wet,




add leaves and
cardboard



 shifting notes bubble past walls



 pulsing momentstimeless marks







	
At one point, I could see through the transparent container
that the bokashi soil was particularly wet at the bottom. I emptied it all onto
a large piece of cardboard to reveal an intense rotten-egg, metallic smell that
occupied my home: sulphur. The smell permeated everything, including my fingers
upon touching the soil. Scents are powerful in affecting our mental state and
physical well-being, and the smell of sulphur is said to cause worry, anxiety
and resentment.2 As a bokashi practitioner, ‘negative’ smells are
‘not something to turn away from, but they are rather considered as a form of
communication: important messages that need to be taken seriously. Sometimes
the bad smell is described humorously as a bucket’s ‘stinking objection to
possible mistreatment’ (Kinnunen 2021, 73). This smell was telling me that the
soil environment was too wet, which in turn prompted me to add cardboard and
spread some particularly wet parts of soil out to dry.


This smell event also extended my engagement with materials
beyond my home, as I needed to gather leaves. Walking to my nearest park, I
felt a new sense of purpose and connection to this public space, as I collected
leaves from the ground. I also leaned into the leaf-mould compost bin, where
some leaves were still fresh and distinguishable, but others underneath were
decaying - the fungal mouldy smells were intoxicating. I realised that as I dug
my hand deeper, I was reaching through an archive of time: layers from spring,
winter and autumn. My sulphur-infused fingers met with the earthy scents of
leaf mould that were in varied states of transformation from previous seasons.
Various scales of time and place were converging in deeply layered scents.


This experience of expanded networks encourages a planetary
reflection on how we might foster care practises for the invisible and
infravisible with the view that ‘ecological well-being depends on aligning the
temporal dimensions of many beings, and the consequences of disruption and
slippage between times’ (vi) (Bellacasa 2017, 176)? How does this relate with
awareness and care for marginalised, ‘invisible’ communities and related
colonial structures of violence? How might investing in relations beyond the
‘hegemony of vision’ (Elam et al. 2013, 139) teach us to inhabit the earth in a
more peaceful coexistence?
	


	


























	


















curious collaborations





bodies, uprooted shifting spaces



reaching for ground







	
After living with my bokashi bin for over 8 months, I had
started to get very familiar and connected with the varied ‘shades’ of my
orange bokashi smells. At the time of my Masters degree show, I moved all my
bokashi elements to a small, empty white walled room where I was showing my
work. With my bokashi materials in place, I was struck by how a sterile,
‘foreign’ space had become augmented with features of my home. Though only
perceptible to me, this seemingly empty space now also contained features of home.
Scents have the capacity to frame an experience and evoke powerful emotions,
which has even been capitalised by ways of ‘scent marketing’ to manipulate
customers into purchasing goods.3 In opposition to this, I consider
how, by being particular to me, the orange bokashi scent-association with
‘home’ highlights a way of resisting large scale manipulative structures by
fostering niche and particular scents that support creating safe spaces for
minority communities. I question how, due to the fact that only particular
people or groups might relate to certain scents, it can serve as a quiet form
of resistance and resilience-building for marginalised peoples. How can we,
through recreating smell, invite particular groups of people to belong and feel
safe in public spaces?



I question this from a body-centred perspective - considering
the materiality of cultural transmission and the gestures involved in the
sensory ‘activations’ with bokashi practice. Thinking of cultural history as a
sensory enactment, I am reminded of Anna Tsing’s description of someone sharing
a recipe with her as ‘you have a fish. You add salt’ (Tsing 2015, 248). This
highlights the tacit knowledge involved in cooking, where the trick is ‘in the
bodily performance, which isn’t easy to explain…it is a dance that partners
here with many dancing lives’ (Tsing 2015, 248). I’m interested in how this
relates to accessibility, where other forms of knowledges are required to
partake. How does this relate with safe spaces for marginalised communities and
forms of kinship that are intentionally partially accessible?



Anita Mannur looks at this in the context of public eating
spaces, in terms of rethinking ways to belong and not-belong to larger
collectives by facilitating ‘intimate spaces of belonging (and
unbelonging)...created for non normative subjects’ (Mannur 2022, 4).&#38;nbsp; I question how these intimate spaces can be
understood as body-centred experiences, exploring cultural memory as something
that is ‘not merely something of which you happen to be a bearer but something
that you actually perform, even if, in many instances, such acts are not
consciously and wilfully contrived’ (Bal 1999, vii). What evidence does the
body hold? What cultural traces are accessible to examine from the physicality
of our existence?



In his novel Soucouyant,
David Chariandy examines the complex unbelonging of second-generation
individuals, writing ‘what … might his mother’s elsewhere past, uttered now in
broken pieces, and in a language not entirely his, ultimately mean to him here
and now, in apparently very different circumstances?’ (Chariandy 2007, 813).
This captures elements of the complex fragmentation and ‘broken pieces’ of
unbelonging for alienated peoples, and gestures towards how these might be
incorporated into complex new identity narratives. How can regenerative
composting practices, like bokashi, contain individual and collective histories
and transform present contexts?


	


	


























	check on it,
but try not to disturb



 


hot pulseswarm bloodveins that touch

	
&#60;img width="1267" height="2429" width_o="1267" height_o="2429" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9c3f010917c15141de9dc8f339f61805448d281fbc846b0925be8e3acecfceea/5-1.jpg" data-mid="160751383" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9c3f010917c15141de9dc8f339f61805448d281fbc846b0925be8e3acecfceea/5-1.jpg" /&#62;
&#60;img width="2890" height="3756" width_o="2890" height_o="3756" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1d8576b6ecd6d47ed8dbf6ab830623fdaade8f02ee3c148add861745c91b66e9/5-2.JPG" data-mid="160751396" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1d8576b6ecd6d47ed8dbf6ab830623fdaade8f02ee3c148add861745c91b66e9/5-2.JPG" /&#62;
&#60;img width="1673" height="2499" width_o="1673" height_o="2499" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9c1bec13c82fafa84a05792a4ddeabeeb7a74e9211c1de39c7178077d63224a9/5-3.JPG" data-mid="160751402" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9c1bec13c82fafa84a05792a4ddeabeeb7a74e9211c1de39c7178077d63224a9/5-3.JPG" /&#62;
&#60;img width="2243" height="2813" width_o="2243" height_o="2813" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4cc017564d1f1409855bf74c0eb5c213dac47ec6a08676f551157222253b99f3/5-4.JPG" data-mid="160751409" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4cc017564d1f1409855bf74c0eb5c213dac47ec6a08676f551157222253b99f3/5-4.JPG" /&#62;
‘As Takalaiska gropes the pulp in the
bucket with her bare &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; hands, she engages in intimate contact with the living matter in the middle of its transformation process. Feeling the rising
temperature is a means of knowing that although nothing has visibly changed, a
great deal is happening.’ (Kinnunen 2021, 73)One of the events of bokashi being buried in the soil is the
strong heat that’s emitted around the waste area due to microbial breakdown of
organic material. The heat could just be experienced as a binary sensation of
‘warm’ but, much like Takalaiska’s experience, it also has the potential to be
experienced in a more nuanced and embodied way. The more I spent time touching
hot bokashi soil, the more this heat and its associated knowledge of what is
happening started to activate a deeper sense of experience of knowing and
being. What was just ‘hot’ came to feel so much more. At first, the heat
triggered an urge in me to dig into the bokashi soil and see what was happening
in this heat. Over time, as my understanding of what was happening had grown
into a knowledge of networks and of microbial worlds being built and digested,
my reaction to the heat started to change. I no longer wanted to disturb it. In
fact, I wanted to leave it as untouched as possible, and what once felt like a
simple form of communication started to feel abundant in speaking to signs of
activity.



As a bodily experience, I began to notice an experience of
‘soundscapes’ in my mind when I touched the heat - an abstracted world of
motion and whispers. I have developed a rather intense imaginative world when I
touch my warm bokashi soil, as human networks entangle with fungal and
bacterial ones in the soil. This imagination is quite an embodied one: an
auditory hum of a loud Moroccan family plays in my mind, and tangles with the
physical sensation of the heat of the soil as well as my own warm pulsing
blood. I offer this as a way to think of how home can be experienced as
body-centred and performative. The experience of home has been described in
phenomenology ‘as multi-sensory, where there is a blurring of clearly defined
boundaries between the subject and object’ (Racz 2015, 15) and I question how
multi-sensory and entangled intimacies with soil can support in ‘blurring of
clearly defined boundaries’.


My touch and the sensation of heat created a communication
between me and the soil, which in turn developed an intimate relation that
transformed the way I touched the bokashi soil. I’m interested in how this
connects with earth-based cultures in relation to climate awareness, and being
able to respect and respond to invisible and infravisble entanglements. How
might developing a physical relation with earth matter foster a sense of
kinship and relatability with the more-than-human? How might that support migrants
and displaced bodies in finding alternative modes of belonging, in the absence
of stable human connections?


	


	


























	Repeat process



 
digestion upon digestionnever the sametime

	
&#60;img width="4032" height="3024" width_o="4032" height_o="3024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dff9a774e71e3c6613d0b48b1e162af8ea215b9870a0ddbac57b2864a3450335/6-1.JPG" data-mid="160751493" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/dff9a774e71e3c6613d0b48b1e162af8ea215b9870a0ddbac57b2864a3450335/6-1.JPG" /&#62;
&#60;img width="4032" height="3024" width_o="4032" height_o="3024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/46a12ba12bc521b888c26fb90c6a726fd3f782a86e83ebf95955bf9de43ac525/6-2.JPG" data-mid="160751495" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/46a12ba12bc521b888c26fb90c6a726fd3f782a86e83ebf95955bf9de43ac525/6-2.JPG" /&#62;
&#60;img width="1125" height="2436" width_o="1125" height_o="2436" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e9e518eb02887fd291d0c1fc14009e0d817ba5a36eee0d61a6d606fe8e7a91be/6-3.jpg" data-mid="160751496" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e9e518eb02887fd291d0c1fc14009e0d817ba5a36eee0d61a6d606fe8e7a91be/6-3.jpg" /&#62;

I end this writing by sharing an
intention to explore another cycle of inquiry stemming from notions around
self-sufficiency and re-skilling. My research continues to guide me towards
deeper sensuous realms within the everyday, in relation with the infravisible -
spanning from the bacterial to the spiritual and communal. How might, in
seeking autonomous modalities for biological survival, we respond to
fragilities that arise from environmental crises whilst also creating new
spaces for non-verbal modes of knowing? I question this in relation to
bacterial inoculation and dynamicity of ‘contamination’ as practise. How might,
for example, cultivating bacteria through foraging for Indigenous
Microorganisms (IMOs) serve to reskill people and nourish soils whilst also
connecting us deeply to land that may not be home? How can embodied
self-sufficiency/interdependence with nature enable alternative ways of
belonging and being with and on earth, despite dispossession?



I’m also interested in exploring the
dynamics between action and inaction in relation to cultivation and
conservation. This is something that I started to touch upon within my bokashi
practice, where a deeper sensory engagement resulted in me increasingly leaving
it alone. I question how non-intervention relates with our understanding of
activism and productivity. How might we imagine productive in-activism or
unproductive activism? How might non-productivity be cultivated? How could this
speak to resistance to dominant capitalist structures? I wish to explore such
tensions in conjunction with Buddhist philosophy as a means of addressing
issues of ecological repair and alternative modes of belonging, being and
knowing.







Footnotes


1.&#38;nbsp; O'Brien ME, Anderson H, Kaukel E, O'Byrne K,
Pawlicki M, Von Pawel J, Reck M 2004: SRL172 (killed Mycobacterium vaccae) in
addition to standard chemotherapy improves quality of life without affecting
survival, in patients with advanced non-small-cell lung cancer: phase III
results. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15151947/&#38;nbsp; [Accessed 05/11/2022]


2. Fiedler, Nancy, Kipen, Howard,
Ohman-Strickland, Pamela, Zhang, Junfeng, Weisel, Clifford, Laumbach, Robert,
Kelly-McNeil, Kathie, Olejeme, Kelechi and Lioy, Paul 2007: Sensory and
Cognitive Effects of Acute Exposure to Hydrogen Sulfide, Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2199294/ [Accessed 05/11/2022]


3. Sanfilippo, Marisa 2022: The smells
that make shoppers spend more, Available from: https://www.businessnewsdaily.com/3469-smells-shoppers-spend-more.html [Accessed 05/11/2022]



 



Bibliography



 Bal, Mieke 1999: “Introduction” Acts of
Memory: Cultural Recall in the Present. Edited by Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe,
and Leo Spitzer. Hanover: Dartmouth College


Bellacasa, María Puig De La 2017:
Matters of care : speculative ethics in more than human worlds, Minneapolis,
MN: University Of Minnesota Press


Ben-Ze'ev, Efrat 2004: “The Politics of
Taste and Smell: Palestinian Rites of Return” The Politics of food. Edited by
Lien, Marianne Elisabeth and Nerlich, Brigette:. New York City, NY: Berg


Chariandy, David 2007: Soucouyant,
Vancouver, BC: Arsenal Pulp Press
Cocozza, Paula 2018: No
hugging: are we living through a crisis of touch? Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/mar/07/crisis-touch-hugging-mental-health-strokes-cuddles [Accessed 21/08/22]


Elam, Michele, Kina, Laura, Chang, Jeff,
and Oh, Ellen 2013: “Beyond the Face: A Pedagogical Primer for Mixed-Race Art
and Social Engagement” Asian American Literary Review, no. 2: 120-154


Fanon, Frantz 1963: The Wretched of the
Earth, Farrington, C. (trans.), New York, USA: Grove Press


Hawkins, Gay 2006: The Ethics of Waste:
How We Relate to Rubbish, Lanham: Rowman &#38;amp; Littlefield


Katz, Sandor Ellix 2020: Fermentation as
Metaphor, White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing


Kimmerer, Robin Wall 2013: Braiding
sweetgrass : indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of
plants, Canada: Milkweed Editions


Kinnunen, Veera 2021: “Knowing, living
and being with bokashi”, Living with Microbes. Edited by Brives, Charlotte and
Rest, Matthäus and Sariola, Salla. Available from: https://www.matteringpress.org/books/with-microbes [Accessed 31/08/2022]


Mannur, Anita 2022: Intimate Eating:
Racialised Spaces and Radical Futures, Durham: Duke University Press


Mol, Annemarie, 2021: Eating in theory,
Durham: Duke University Press


Morril, Angie, Tuck, Eve and the Super
Futures Haunt Qollective 2016: Before Dispossession, or Surviving it:
Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies


Vol. 12, No. 1. Available from: http://liminalities.net/12-1/dispossession.pdf [Accessed 1/8/2022]


Peña, Devon G. 2019: “On Intimacy with
Soils: Indigenous Agroecology and Biodynamics” Indigenous food sovereignty in
the United States: restoring cultural knowledge, protecting environments, and
regaining health. Edited by Mihesuah, Devon A. and Hoover, Elizabeth, Norman,
OK: University of Oklahoma Press


Racz, Imogen 2015: Art and the Home:
Comfort, Alienation and the Everyday, London: I.B. Tauris &#38;amp; Co. Ltd


Tsing, Anna Lowenhaupt 2015: The
mushroom at the end of the world: on the possibility of life in capitalist
ruins, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press


Van der Kolk, Bessel A. 2014: The body
keeps the score : brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma, USA: Viking
Penguin

	



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		<title>Laura Buckle</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Laura-Buckle</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:43:00 +0000</pubDate>

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		<description>Laura Buckle

It
takes 9000 stitches to complete a full circle.




	
	
	

	
	

	


















“The
global textile industry is "one of
the longest and most complicated industrial chains in the manufacturing
industry" (Beton et al, 2014:13).
 



"It takes 9000 stitches to complete a full
circle”, is a stop motion video composed of a little over 9000 images.
Photographing a single hand stitch at a time, this video documents the journey
I have undertaken researching the complicated and chaotic textile industry, and
potential solutions. Situated in Portsmouth, a city on the south coast of
England, 9000 stitches demonstrates
how something as simple as a google search to find out what happens to our
unwanted textiles is incredibly complicated, frustrating, and laughable. It
shouldn’t be this difficult.

What
clothes we wear directly impacts our planet, but we already know this. We
already know that fast fashion is bad and unsustainable. We’ve seen the
campaigns suggesting we buy second hand, or “recycle” our clothing.&#38;nbsp; But here I propose a new campaign. One that
might incite change and call out those responsible. One that highlights the
issues of the current industry, without passing the blame onto those that have
no choice, and one that will not stand for the continual depletion of land, and
damage to human, and more than human life, all in the name of fashion.




Information
around how to change legislation is equally as complex and impenetrable as the
language used within the textile industry. There are however rumours and
rumblings that changes to legislation is on its way, and soon textile producers
will be responsible for their products' entire life cycle. Existing already in
some countries, others, including the UK, are soon to be subject to similar
legislation (extended producer responsibility (EPR)); apparently.




New
legislation that enforces extended producer responsibility has the potential to
drastically change the way our textiles are produced and better yet, how they
are recycled. However, if EPR is enforced without a global and inclusive thought
process, it’s unlikely to contribute to the efforts of those already combating
the climate crisis. Globally there are some legislations that cover producer
responsibility for products such as electrical goods. In France, the government
want to reduce packaging and textile waste and their legislation states that “Anyone responsible for placing packaged
products on the market must pay a “eco contribution fee” for the recycling of
their packaging waste. Manufacturers in France must also take responsibility
for textiles that are put in circulation” (Bettinl,
2021: n/p). However, when you buy an electrical household appliance in
France," there is always a small
part of the price labelled éco-participation, a fee used to fund collection and
recycling of the item when it is no longer used. The money does not go to the
government but to one of two non-profit organisations responsible for
recycling” (Connexion France, 2019).
In other words, the cost is
passed onto the consumer.&#38;nbsp; 




 







	



	

















An
inclusive circular economy, that is, one that does not exclude people from
climate change solutions because of their race, class or gender, would not
conclude with a solution where companies enforce a cost to the consumers. &#38;nbsp;



 &#60;img width="2935" height="1956" width_o="2935" height_o="1956" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/60c79b853e35baf5d6660fc3cc32bd27ae8d5e21813bf8d9550837a44435a55a/Slow-protest-Primark--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" data-mid="160898625" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/60c79b853e35baf5d6660fc3cc32bd27ae8d5e21813bf8d9550837a44435a55a/Slow-protest-Primark--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" /&#62;


One
might argue that companies unable to absorb such costs, should reconsider
making products that require such a pricey end, and perhaps redesign the way
their textiles are made all together.


My
point is that even when legally enforced to ensure products are recycled,
companies will still find a way to dodge, mislead, pass the buck and greenwash
all those involved in the textile industry, including the consumer. Although I
am not dismissing the fact someone must pay to safely recycle or dispose of our
products, and that consumers should not contribute, this is a privileged,
upper/middle class standpoint that not all can participate in.&#38;nbsp; If many of the working class are unable to
contribute financially to the recycling of their products, the likelihood is,
they will be unable to purchase the product to begin with. Already we see this
pattern in fast fashion; author Abigail Allan discusses climate change and the
UK's working class, and responds to the suggestion that consumers should
consider the quality of their items before purchasing, as a means to combat
pollution. Allan states;




"In the
cycle of poverty, the working class consumer cannot afford to buy a
high-quality, and therefore expensive, pair of boots, and so is forced to
constantly and frequently buy and replace cheap pairs of boots. Furthermore, in
my own experience, poorer members of society are more likely to not be able to
afford a car and its associated costs, or even public transport, and so will
walk more often, often over longer distances, meaning our cheap shoes are
likely to wear out even more quickly. Buying more expensive, higher quality
items is an investment that pays off both ecologically and economically - but
people who don’t have the spare income to invest in higher quality items are
stuck with an alternative that is worse for both their financial situation,
forcing them further into the cycle of poverty, and for the planet.&#38;nbsp; This forces the consumer to buy more products
more often, forcing them further into the cycle of poverty – and inevitably
increasing their climate impact" (Allan,
2020: n/p). 
&#60;img width="2937" height="1958" width_o="2937" height_o="1958" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1a5dad0aebf023a630357347c432469989bdf88a7872e5c23efb234d468232d9/Slow-protest-Dantan--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" data-mid="160898619" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1a5dad0aebf023a630357347c432469989bdf88a7872e5c23efb234d468232d9/Slow-protest-Dantan--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" /&#62;




Without
sociological context there is not a simple solution. Working class people may
not have the option to avoid fast fashion, particularly with our current social
crises.&#38;nbsp; A non-consumerist approach to a
circular economy may lead to class limitations and it would thereby suggest
that the global industry need not create a complicated system, but scale back
the current one; think necessity.




If
production merely responded to need, as opposed to desire, the social,
economical and environmental strain would be reduced enormously. In order for
this sociological change, environmentalism must not exclude or target others.
Author Jennifer Westerman reviews working class scholar and activist Karen
Bell’s book; Working-Class Environmentalism: An Agenda for a Just and Fair
Transition to Sustainability.&#38;nbsp; In it, 
“Bell calls on her
readers and others to build a more inclusive environmentalism that will
‘benefit, include, and respect working-class people’ (p. 138). 
Learning from
the environmentalism of the world’s poor efforts by trade unions to address
environmental problems, and social movements for worker health and safety will
enable a radical socio-ecological transformation. Bell asserts: ‘we must build
alliances between social and environmental movements and extend these movements
to support the widest scope of humans and ecologies possible'" (Westerman, 2021: 150).







	


	


















As
this issue is global, there is no quick fix or blanket solution that could
possibly support everyone in the world. However it's with utmost importance
that we stop the disempowerment and continuous beatings that the working class,
Global South, and all others who are of a sociological and physical
disadvantage, continually take. 



If
we are not careful, legislation change may replicate this pattern in different
ways. We must ensure that there are no legislation loopholes that will allow
companies to appear to be doing the right thing for the industry and our
planet, but are in fact excluding many, whilst making no real change at all.







Legislation
that ensures companies are responsible for a product's entire life cycle, must
also ensure that what happens to the product is the same, regardless of who
purchased it. Our current set up deliberately targets and blames those who are
unable to participate any other way. There are of course exceptions to this;
influencers and celebrities who don’t wear the same item twice, or the constant
bombardment of social media and advertisers, desperately applying pressure for
us to consume, consume, consume. I am not ignoring these facts, nor am I saying
they are not incredibly problematic and detrimental to the way in which the
industry is run. However I am saying that it is my belief that over time we can
change these attitudes and behaviours for with them; comes choice. 




I
am standing for those that have no choice. The people in the Global South, the
working class, the poor. I am standing for the workers in elastane factories
becoming sick from the toxic chemicals, for the independent companies,
scientists and researchers creating better ways to make and dispose of our
products. For the protesters, artists and organisations shining light on this
global unfairness and stating that enough is enough. 




It
is for these people and more, that I implore not just my government in the UK,
but for governments around the world to stop this ludicrousness and make it
simple. For that is the fix: simplicity. 




Working
class environmentalism provides the opportunity to consider everyone, of all
backgrounds and abilities. Its impact on the textile industry would mean less
items produced, better quality items, and transparency around recycling and a
product's end of life. 



 &#60;img width="2912" height="1941" width_o="2912" height_o="1941" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ea83b24ede0ad08615d61a2dc3c07ef1448e24c1d73471fe6033e0b481232d8b/Slow-protest-H_M--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" data-mid="160898614" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ea83b24ede0ad08615d61a2dc3c07ef1448e24c1d73471fe6033e0b481232d8b/Slow-protest-H_M--Unwanted-textiles--2022..jpg" /&#62;



It
is my belief that legislation change is the next step needed, to begin to make
the global textile industry a much fairer, simpler place for all. However, my
argument is that if you're a producer of a product, and the law states you are
responsible for its entire life cycle, you must also be responsible for the
interactions your product has with people and the landscape along the way. Is
it sourced in a way that isn't detrimental to the land? Are the workers
producing it being paid fairly and cared for? Are consumers buying an honest
product without greenwashing? Can that consumer afford the time to repair? Is
there a clear way to recycle? Can it go back to the land at the end of its
life? 




It
is my belief that the law should recognise these interactions as
responsibility, and producers should be held accountable. Not with fines,&#38;nbsp; but with action, reprimand, and consequence. Without
change the poor get poorer, the sick get sicker, and an unsustainable industry
will continue to grow at the detriment to our planet.


















It
is important we shop second hand or from sustainably conscious and fair
companies. It’s important that we reuse and repair our textiles, that we wear
them more and wash them less. It’s important to avoid certain materials and
read past the greenwashing, and it is important to donate and recycle our
clothes. But not every option is possible for all, or easy to do, nor will any
or all of those options combined change anything quickly. We need producers to
take responsibility, and create a much simpler industry.




Perhaps the global textile industry may seem
ambiguous, but in my campaign I intend to call out those responsible. I will
fight for a fair legislation change, to ensure producers are held accountable.
I will fight for better production, honesty and transparency, new technologies,
and simplicity, and I ask you to stand with me in this fight where together we
state that enough is enough.



 
I am
campaigning for global change and I am fighting against global injustice.







Watch this
space.



















Allan,
A, (2020) No Choice: Climate Change and
the UK’s Working Class, [online] Accessed: 26.08.22. Available at:
www.anthroposphere.co.uk.



Beton, A, Dias, D, Farrant, L, Gibo, T, Le, Y. Spain,G, (2014) Environmental improvement potential of textiles
(IMPRO textiles), European commission, Joint Research Centre scientific and
policy reports.



Bettin, L, (2021) Textile
EPR recycling laws [online] Accessed: 10.11.22. Available at:
www.ecommercegermany.com. 



Connexion France, (2019) What
is French eco participation fee and how does it work? [online] Accessed:
10.11.22. Available at: www.connexionfrance.com. 



Westerman, J, (2021) A Review: Bell, K. (2020). Working-Class
Environmentalism: An Agenda for a Just and Fair Transition to Sustainability.Journal of Working-Class Studies Volume 6 Issue 1.
 












	



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		<title>Pascal Marcel Dreier 	</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Pascal-Marcel-Dreier</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:45:06 +0000</pubDate>

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		<description>
	Pascal Marcel Dreier
Theatrum Osteologicum (Theatre of Bones / Theatre of the Knowledge of Bones)2022.


 
&#38;nbsp;Theatrum Osteologicum is a lecture performance on bones, chimeras, and haunting. It is a summary of 15 months of research in London's waterways, museums, archives, and the artist's studio showing previously unpublished research material such as geophone field recordings and LIDAR-scans.&#38;nbsp; 
REFERENCESBehringer, Richard R. ‘Human-Animal Chimeras in Biomedical Research’. Cell Stem Cell 1, no. 3 (September 2007): 259–62.&#38;nbsp;
Berger, John. Why Look at Animals? Vol. 80. London: Penguin, 2009.
Chauveau, A. (Auguste), S. (Saturnin) Arloing, and George Fleming. The Comparative Anatomy of the Domesticated Animals. 
New York : D. Appleton and Company, 549 &#38;amp; 551 Broadway, 1873.
Frandson, R. D. Anatomy and Physiology of Farm Animals. 2d ed. Philadelphia: Lea &#38;amp; Febiger, 1974.
Haraway, Donna. ‘The Promises of Monsters: A Regenerative Politics for Inappropriate/d Other’. In Cultural Studies, edited byLawrence Grossberg, Cary Nelson, and Paula Treichler, 0 ed. Routledge, 1991. .
Haraway, Donna Jeanne. Modest_Witness@Second_Millennium. FemaleMan_Meets_OncoMouse: Feminism and Technoscience. Second edition. New York, NY: Routledge, Taylor &#38;amp; Francis Group, 2018.
Hesiod, M. L. West, and Hesiod. Theogony: And, Works and Days. Oxford’s World’s Classics. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press, 2008.
Hsu, Der-jen, Chia-wei Lee, Wei-choung Tsai, and Yeh-chung Chien. ‘Essential and Toxic Metals in Animal Bone Broths’. Food &#38;amp; Nutrition Research 61, no. 1 (1 January 2017): 1347478. .
Kölliker, Albert von. Die normale Resorption des Knochengewebes und ihre Bedeutung für die Entstehung der typischen Knochenformen. Leipzig : F.C.W. Vogel, 1873.
Latour, Bruno. We Have Never Been Modern. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1993.
Le Guin, Ursula K. ‘A Left-Handed Commencement Address’. In Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, 
Women, Places, by Ursula K. Le Guin, 1st ed. New York: Grove Press, 1989.———. ‘The Question I Get Asked Most Often’. In The Wave in the Mind: Talks and Essays on the Writer, the Reader, and the Imagination, by Ursula K. Le Guin, 1st ed. Boston : New York: Shambhala ; Distributed in the United States by Random House, 2004.
Martin, T John. ‘Historically Significant Events in the Discovery of RANK/RANKL/OPG’. World Journal of Orthopedics 4, no. 4 (2013): 186. .
Monro, J. A., R. Leon, and B. K. Puri. ‘The Risk of Lead Contamination in Bone Broth Diets’. Medical Hypotheses 80, no. 4 (1 April 2013): 389–90. .
Mylius, Johann Daniel. Philosophia Reformata Continens Libros Binos. Apud Lucam Iennis., typis vero Joannis Friderici Weissii, 1622.
Orlow, Uriel, Shela Sheikh, Showroom (Gallery), Switzerland) Corner College (Zurich, Parc Saint Léger--Centre d’art contemporain, and Kunste Halle Sankt Gallen. Theatrum Botanicum. Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2018.
Strydonck, Mark Van, Mathieu Boudin, and Guy De Mulder. ‘The Carbon Origin of Structural Carbonate in Bone Apatite of Cremated Bones’. Radiocarbon 52, no. 2 (2010): 578–86. .
Tajchman, Katarzyna, Aleksandra Ukalska-Jaruga, Marek Bogdaszewski, Monika Pecio, and Katarzyna Dziki-Michalska. ‘Accumulation of Toxic Elements in Bone and Bone Marrow of Deer Living in Various Ecosystems. A Case Study of Farmed and Wild-Living Deer’. Animals : An Open Access Journal from MDPI 10, no. 11 (19 November 2020): 2151. .
Vesalius, Andreas. De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem. Venetia, 1568.
FIGURES- SEM bone, HA crystals and new bone. David Gregory &#38;amp; Debbie Marshall. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) Wellcome Collection, London.
 - SEM of osteoporotic bone. David Gregory &#38;amp; Debbie Marshall. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) Wellcome Collection, London.
- Calcinatio, in: Mylius, Johann Daniel. Philosophia Reformata Continens Libros Binos. Apud Lucam Iennis., typis vero Joannis Friderici Weissii, 1622. 107.
- Putrefactio, in: Mylius, Johann Daniel. Philosophia Reformata Continens Libros Binos. Apud Lucam Iennis., typis vero Joannis Friderici Weissii, 1622. 117.
- William Blake, Cerberus (second version), 1824-1827, illustration for The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (Inferno VI, 13-33), pen and ink and watercolour over black chalk and traces of pencil, 37.3 × 52.7 cm (sheet), London, England; National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.
- Vase of bone china painted with enamels and gilded, Spode Ceramic Works, Stoke-on-Trent, ca. 1820. Height: 26.9cm. One of a pair with C.710-1935. C.710A-1935&#38;nbsp;
 - Tafel II, in: Kölliker, Albert von. Die normale Resorption des Knochengewebes und ihre Bedeutung für die Entstehung der typischen Knochenformen. Leipzig : F.C.W. Vogel, 1873.



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		<title>Finlay Forbes-Gower</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Finlay-Forbes-Gower</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:45:08 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

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&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; Finlay Forbes-Gower
	
	

	


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		<title>Sophie Hughes</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Sophie-Hughes-1</link>

		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Dec 2022 16:29:11 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

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&#38;nbsp;&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; Sophie Hughes
	

	




	










My work roams the boundaries between the known and the unknown. Looking through spiritual and scientific lenses, I focus on relationships between humans and the more-than-human world, from the micro to the vegetal to the cosmic. 

 
In the heart, the queue and the whale, a series of illustrated poetry and rupture, a film, I have mapped thought experiments that form urban landscapes. In these works, the city takes the form of a hybridised body with guttural functions, rhythms and tides. Collective receptacles for grief and hope occur in the form&#38;nbsp;of&#38;nbsp;a&#38;nbsp;whale in the river&#38;nbsp;and a&#38;nbsp;five-mile-long queue of mourning, which&#38;nbsp;rupture the urban trance and open&#38;nbsp;space for intraconnection. 


Please begin by scrolling down through the heart, the queue and the whale. When you have finished, please take a deep breath and continue on to watch the film, rupture. 
 







	



	 
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; the heart, the queue and the whale

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&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; rupture

	
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 


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		<title>Barney Pau</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Barney-Pau</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:45:05 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

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	Barney Pau

Radical Queer
Bakers
A
Zine-Cum-Recipe-Book

	
	
&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2944152b19f7190f58d8338a7934c94efdbf70833a88d4bee43ef8ed5ffee7c4/RQB-0193.jpg" data-mid="161158865" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2944152b19f7190f58d8338a7934c94efdbf70833a88d4bee43ef8ed5ffee7c4/RQB-0193.jpg" /&#62;

	
	
Single-minded
in our war of attrition, humans have enlisted armies of monocultured clones to
march across the land. Genetically refined, chemically protected, and
synthetically fed; these plants never rest. Soils crumble as they march; waters
slurry with their poison; airs suffocate in their pollution. Mountains have
been moved; rivers rerouted; the earth bled black. Their victories, however,
are pyrrhic. Gained territories become barren, pillaged of fertility; an
agricultural scorched-earth policy. Ransacked of its resources, the land is
left battered; at once organically sterile and toxically fertile; conquered
with the full human arsenal of chemical and mechanical technology under the
unifying flag of monoculture.











	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f9d4a87505d2874e21d9544d873067e5a1ca026afde559a7ebc38195b6b67c44/RQB-02.jpg" data-mid="160741484" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f9d4a87505d2874e21d9544d873067e5a1ca026afde559a7ebc38195b6b67c44/RQB-02.jpg" /&#62;


	


	
Radical Queer
Bakers(RQB) is a call to action. It is an endeavour to creatively disseminate
conventional treatments of the land; to question and queer traditional
agricultural and environmental practices; and better redress how we might
cohabit and care for this world.




RQB calls all cooks:
let’s spoil this broth. Let’s stir the pot and brew a coup from this soup. Come
take the biscuit, and stick your fingers in our half-baked pie. Whether you’re
chaff or wheat, let’s make hay while the sun shines. So take a seat at the
table, and together let’s have our cake and&#38;nbsp;eat it.



	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a9b62f13154673e4235f82cab4f3d52bc4e563113859f9fa802e01bf223abda1/RQB-03.jpg" data-mid="160741597" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a9b62f13154673e4235f82cab4f3d52bc4e563113859f9fa802e01bf223abda1/RQB-03.jpg" /&#62;

	
	


















Each
issue of RQB will collaborate with a
creative who works at the confluence of consumption and queerness. Whether
their work focuses on land-management, agriculture, cooking, or eating; we seek
those who subvert and divert normativity with their practice. By focussing on
kinship and creative collaboration, RQB seeks
to explore non-normative forms of reproduction that champion diversity.






Whether
queer, questioning, or uncategorised; curious, non-conforming, or
unconventional; if you’re an ally who’s aligned: help us stir this pot. So, to
all the wallflowers at the field’s edge: let’s cross-pollinate and create!









	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/371e9cef7caad07c2e8ffa9415fe7c24dfb82fdd6fb851e7a6190400e770b4d7/RQB-04.jpg" data-mid="160741632" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/371e9cef7caad07c2e8ffa9415fe7c24dfb82fdd6fb851e7a6190400e770b4d7/RQB-04.jpg" /&#62;


	
	


















A note from the
editor:







In
this beta issue of RQB I explore my
own practice, as an example of what this publication might be. As such, these
views are my individual consciousness, determined by my queerness, but also by
my cisgender, white, middle-class, maleness. I am not practically versed in
husbandry; I am a consumer, not a producer, both in theory and praxis. Yet this
issue is for all, and endeavours to avoid singularity by encouraging plurality.






My
work explores queering consumption through food, looking at the domestic realm;
home of constrictive normativity fed by heteronormative ideals. In The Queerness of Home (2021), the queer
historian Stephen Vider identifies the “home as a site of creative tension
between integration and resistance” (ibid: 3). In dismantling the codified
norms of domesticity, I hope to better understand and challenge the consumptive
practices that are so detrimental to our food systems. In a radical act of
queer reproduction, I share with you my bread recipe and a sample of my
starter, so join me, and help me spread my seed.









	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4cdcb26525458957ee7ad65d7e95c489f567d6d3ce46dcafd4fee816f6a69a1e/RQB-05.jpg" data-mid="160741797" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4cdcb26525458957ee7ad65d7e95c489f567d6d3ce46dcafd4fee816f6a69a1e/RQB-05.jpg" /&#62;



	
	
Situating myself



 
Sexuality—queer
or not—is often demonised, and non-reproductive sex deemed superfluous.
Queerness, in it’s non-reproductivity and sexual alterity to the (hetero)norm,
is doubly condemned. Liberation movements often use sexuality to defy inherent
structures of power. My work sexualises and queers to explore alternatives to
normativity.



 
One
particularly pertinent word to my practice is ‘promiscuity’. ‘Promiscuous’,
from Latin promiscuus:
‘indiscriminate’, is based on miscere:
‘to mix’, and originally meant ‘consisting of elements mixed together’; whence
contemporary notions of ‘indiscriminate sex’ derivate. Promiscuity is diversity
through freedom of choice. In agriculture, a promiscuous crop genetically
self-diversifies, creating a ‘population’ of similar, yet genetically unique
plants. This engenders self-sufficiency: if one species senescences to an
abiotic stress—pest, disease, weather—another is adapted to survive.
Populations are environmental failsafes, ensuring futurity.






Promiscuity’s
agricultural antonym is ‘monoculture’. Its prefix, mono-, ‘one’, negates promiscuity by upholding singularity. Both
social and agricultural monocultures promote uniformity: consumers thereof are
subject to their influence; as the poet Wendell Berry famously wrote: “Eating
is an agricultural act.” Both social and agricultural monocultures render
‘otherness’ as deviance. Through queering, my practice challenges both social
(heteronormative) and agricultural monocultures through diversification.









	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a7e961f2e948a933de7a8532efd176853a449f94db89e438e520225699530914/RQB-06.jpg" data-mid="160741876" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a7e961f2e948a933de7a8532efd176853a449f94db89e438e520225699530914/RQB-06.jpg" /&#62;

	
	


















What’s in a name?



 

Radical: The term
'radical’ is rooted in late Middle English to mean ‘forming the root’ and
‘inherent’; in turn sourced from late Latin radicalis,
from radix; radic-: ‘root’. Radicalism is a literal reconnection to one’s
roots.



 
Queer: The term
‘queer’ comes from the Low German queer:
‘off-centre’; taken from the Old High German twerh: ‘oblique’, which in turn is rooted in the
Proto-Indo-European (PIE) terkw: ‘to
twist’. ‘Queer’ entered 16th century English to mean ‘strange’, ‘odd’, or
‘peculiar’. By the 19th century queer had become a pejorative term for sexual
deviance. A century later it was reclaimed by queer activists who turned it
into a homophile term, and has since become an umbrella term for
non-heterosexuals. By the 1990s queer theory became recognised in academia as a
critical discourse against heteronormativity, and ‘queering’ as an action,
joined ‘queer’ as an identity.






Baker: In Western
narratives, bread is synonymous with sustenance. Through its medium we can
understand culture: from its contextual import; and entwined history with
agriculture; to the infrastructural problems it incurs; and the potential
solutions it presents. The baker is thus a conduit: they form and shape the way
we eat; their ferments can foment us; and into their bread messages of
responsible consumption can be baked.










	
&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bcf19e635bc07b0b0adb4c5269b386ed40976f3eb0fd7fb704feb1535f05813a/RQB-07.jpg" data-mid="160741963" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bcf19e635bc07b0b0adb4c5269b386ed40976f3eb0fd7fb704feb1535f05813a/RQB-07.jpg" /&#62;



	
	

















Why the Queer
Zine?






Queer
zines are radical. Their alterity defies inherent systems of control. The introduction
to Queer Zines Vol. 2 (2014) states
that “queer zines [...] establish communality in difference.” (ibid: 4). In Fruity Zine Love Poem Essay, published
in the same book, the trans activist Edie Fake writes: “Feral, free, mutable
and rowdy, queer zines invest themselves in a non-canonical and anti linear
diary of the world. Queer zines act as starter cultures—concentrated, restless
doses of fevered activity” (ibid: 204).



 
What is Queering?






Queering
is a practice as much as queerness is an identity. Both are based in alterity.
Queering is subversion; perversion; divergence from the norm. In Cruising Utopia (2009), the queer
theorist José Esteban Muñoz writes: “Queerness is an ideality”; “a structuring
and educated mode of desiring that allows us to see and feel beyond the
quagmire of the present”. Muñoz presents queerness as futurity; a utopia to
strive for, though not yet achieved. The philosopher Jonathan Dollimore
suggests in Sexual Dissidence (1990)
that “Perversion [queerness] was (and remains) a concept bound up with
insurrection.” (Ibid: 103). He writes that queerness perverts the norm through
the act of ‘straying’, which “reveals [the norm’s] coercive ‘nature’”; “in
straying we discover alternative ways to alternative futures” (ibid: 106), and
can “produce a glimpse of difference, one which remains with the stray, even as
he or she is coerced back to the straight and narrow” (ibid: 107). Queerness,
by ‘straying’ from the norm, enables alterity. In their article FUCKING PANSIES (2016), the queer
theorist Casper Heinemann suggests creativity to be queer futurity for
non-reproductive sexualities; a means of ensuring posterity.









	
&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/071f91f90301a82a1cdbd936ec2723060457ddf8b94eaade46f621c129282225/RQB-08.jpg" data-mid="160742086" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/071f91f90301a82a1cdbd936ec2723060457ddf8b94eaade46f621c129282225/RQB-08.jpg" /&#62;



	
	

















Why do we look
like we do?







This
zine takes a ‘boustrophedon structure’; a method of book-making where the
entire publication is made of one whole sheet of paper. Boustrophedon is an
ancient style of writing in which alternate lines are written in reverse, used
before the widespread adoption of contemporary conventional writing styles, in
which lines begin on the same side. The term comes from Ancient Greek: βουστροφηδόν [boustrophēdón]: composed of βοῦς [bous], “ox”; στροφή [strophḗ], “turn”; and the suffix -δόν, [-dón], “like”. Brought together, the term literally means “like the
ox turns [while ploughing]”. 






By
Adopting this approach, each page of RQB&#38;nbsp;represents part of a united whole—a bigger picture, if you will. The
publications’ non-linear, plural trajectories negate the page order of
conventional publishing. 




Similarly,
much as furrows regulate a field’s format, the gridwork of traditional typography
can constrict creativity. By obfuscating the rigidity of traditionally gridded
typographic layouts, RQB queers
convention and promotes alterity, while still adhering to a print-inspired
format.








	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c6d402d30802fb78a9625e9a98e945e58ff3eebbd1582aefbe798458829b27f8/RQB-09.jpg" data-mid="160742198" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c6d402d30802fb78a9625e9a98e945e58ff3eebbd1582aefbe798458829b27f8/RQB-09.jpg" /&#62;

	
	


















Promiscuous Bent
Bread




The
bread recipe included in this zine has been designed to not only nourish the
soul, but also the soil. The ingredients list calls for both grains and pulses,
companion plants which not only feed each-other, but also the ground from which
they grow. “Why ‘Bent Bread’?”, you ask? “Why should a loaf be straight?”, I
respond. “Why promiscuous, then?” As previously mentioned, a promiscuous crop
is one that defies monoculture and outcrosses with genetically similar, but
unique plants, effectively self diversifying. 



 
Why rye?






Rye
is notoriously promiscuous, an attribute that greatly endears it to me, hence
my preference to baking with it. Rye bread need not be kneaded, requiring less
intervention and granting the cultures that inhibit it greater autonomy.






Rye
is also inherently queer. The domestication of rye occurred somewhat
differently to that of other grains. Wild rye, a grass similar to wild wheat,
entered the field as a weed; undesired by the farmer. With each harvest, the
farmer would select the most desirable wheat of their crop and plant it the
next year. The rye that acted and looked most similar to the wheat would also
get selected by the unsuspecting farmer, securing itself another generation of
husbandry. This is a process called Vavilovian mimicry, and involves three
agents: the model, the mimic, and the dupe. Rye, by mimicking wheat—the
model—dupes the human. Rye underwent a series of morphological, physiological,
and behavioural changes in this process of assimilation, becoming an
unintentional domesticate.






Thus,
due to these promiscuous, anti-assimilationist tendencies, rye continues to
fight the homogeneity of standardisation and reductionism; it is radically
queer in it’s refusal to go along; it ‘strays’. Similar, but never truly the
same; forced to assimilate, yet fighting for agency: rye’s parities with queer
identity make it an apposite grain to bake with.
 









	
&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a715c09b8cec2bd9d2ee6e1ceb46bd97776a045156abbf0b7b816d16ba72f528/RQB-10.jpg" data-mid="160742282" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a715c09b8cec2bd9d2ee6e1ceb46bd97776a045156abbf0b7b816d16ba72f528/RQB-10.jpg" /&#62;


	
	Spread my Seed







Included
in this zine is a dried sample of active starter. Gifting it is a radical act
of queer reproduction.&#38;nbsp; Fermentation is
inherently queer; a non-normative form of interspecies collaborative
reproduction which negates the norms of repro-centrism (a term borrowed from
Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands and Bruce Eriksons 2010 book, Queer Ecologies). The queerness of fermentation is explored by the
queer fermentation revivalist Sandor Katz. In his Fermentation as Metaphor (2020), Katz writes that “The greatest
promise of metaphorical fermentation is that it generates new forms” (ibid:
92); it is an “infinite regenerative power” (ibid: 106). He likens fermentation
to the Rebellious Spirit—they who refute established authority—for its
“inevitable expression of refusal to go along.” (ibid: 86). Fermentation thus
becomes actively radical in its non-conformity.









	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3baf6983811ef9734ccfcb21f4cf39a72df0df2d674b35ab83c046c7e1cf0533/RQB-11.jpg" data-mid="160742561" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3baf6983811ef9734ccfcb21f4cf39a72df0df2d674b35ab83c046c7e1cf0533/RQB-11.jpg" /&#62;

	
	


















Where to start



 
Drying
a starter below 45˚C, as it has been prepared here, allows the live cultures it
contains to go dormant, ready to be awakened when needed. The sachet in this
zine will last indefinitely, so take your time. 



 


To
bring this starter back to life, add it to a mixture of 1 part water to 1 part
dark rye flour to make a thick paste. Leave in a loosely sealed container at
room temperature for 24 hours. Discard a small amount and top up with more
water and flour. Keep this cycle going until the starter is bubbling and active
and smells nice and strong. An active starter needs regular feeding, though it
can survive for a while in the fridge unfed. Gone mouldy? Don’t fret, simply
scrape off the top layer of mould and refeed what remains underneath, and it’ll
bubble back to life in no time.






The
older a starter is, the more excitingly diverse and active it becomes. The
sample attached to this zine has been nurtured over several years. By sharing
it with you it will grow and develop becoming more diverse and complex.
 









	&#60;img width="2125" height="1463" width_o="2125" height_o="1463" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e584bf55ad4bd1059ee1930402f2c664cd5fb4e1e0e9930093085b90237d243d/RQB-12.jpg" data-mid="160742703" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e584bf55ad4bd1059ee1930402f2c664cd5fb4e1e0e9930093085b90237d243d/RQB-12.jpg" /&#62;

	


	


















Soil Food: Eating
for the Earth



Makes
3 loaves


Takes
3 days



The
ingredients of the flour in this recipe represent a rough guide to
grain-to-pulse ratio for 1.1kg of soil food flour:



&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 600g rye four
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g einkorn or emmer wheat flour=
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g spelt flour
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g oat flour
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 200g assorted pulse flours*



*Health-food
shops often stock a range of pulse flours.





Equipment:


3 bread tins


Mixing bowl &#38;amp; plate



 Day
1
17:00



&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 50g rye flour
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 50g warm water



Add both flour and water to the rye starter and
mix well. Leave at room temperature overnight to ferment. The next morning it
should be bubbly and active.



Day
2
08:00



&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g active rye starter
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 300g soil food flour
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 600g warm water



Mix the ingredients in a mixing bowl. Cover&#38;nbsp; the production starter with a plate and leave
at room temp for 6-7 hours until bubbly and active.




15:00



&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g sunflower seeds
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g pumpkin seeds
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 100g hemp seeds
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 990g production starter
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 660g soil food flour
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 24g salt
&#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; &#38;nbsp; 400g water




Toast the seeds. Mix all the ingredients in a
large bowl. Lightly grease and flour the tins. Portion the mix into them
evenly. Place them on a baking tray and cover with a plastic bag. Leave to
prove somewhere warm for 2-3 hours until they have risen by a third.



18:00



Preheat the oven to 220C. Bake for 70m, then
leave to cool.



Your bread is now ready to eat! Leaving it for
12-24 hours helps the flavours mature and the sourness to develop.
Edited
and designed by Barney Pau (he/him) during his studies on the MA Art &#38;amp;
Ecology at Goldsmiths, University of London. For more information visit the
following barneypau.com / contact@barneypau.com / @barneypau
















	&#60;img width="2000" height="1376" width_o="2000" height_o="1376" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f4ebc2c6cb878aa6365b84199d3631d2cbdfa937236bdfd6ba98c3c3b93143fd/RQB-13.jpg" data-mid="161158871" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f4ebc2c6cb878aa6365b84199d3631d2cbdfa937236bdfd6ba98c3c3b93143fd/RQB-13.jpg" /&#62;



	
	References:


Berry,
W. (1989). The Pleasures of Eating.





Bronson,
AA. &#38;amp; Aarons, P. (2014). Queer Zines,
Vol. 2. New York: Printed Matter.





Dollimore,
J. (1991) Sexual Dissidence: Augustine to
Wilde, Freud to Foucault. Oxford: Clarendon Press.





Esteban
Muñoz, J. Cruising Utopia: The Then and
There of Queer Futurity (2009). New York: NYU Press.





Heinemann,
C. (2016). FUCKING PANSIES: Queer
poetics, plant reproduction, plant
poetics, queer reproduction.





Katz,
S. (2020). Fermentation as Metaphor.
Vermont: Chelsea Green. 





Mortimer-Sandilands,
C. &#38;amp; Erickson, B. (2010). Queer
Ecologies: Sex, nature, politics, desire. Indiana: Indiana University 





Vider,
S. (2021). The Queer- Press. ness of Home: Gender, sexuality, and the
politics of domesticity after World War II. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.



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</description>
		
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	<item>
		<title>Becky Lyon</title>
				
		<link>https://journalofartandecology.com/Becky-Lyon</link>

		<pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 16:45:16 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>Journal of Art &#38; Ecology</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://journalofartandecology.com/Becky-Lyon</guid>

		<description>
	Becky Lyon
	
	


	
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