Emily & Josh
Emily & Josh
Kai Chuang, Molly Garrett, Aya Khalife and Spencer Chang
Dear reader
A few moons ago I wrote:
I eagerly entered the new year. I rushed to set up the business infrastructure here in Greece, schedule Naive Yearly, catch up on old promises and build healthy routines. I was in such a hurry that I drank coffee before running to go faster.
When January became February, I was still running. But I started to feel like running on a treadmill. I was in motion, but the landscape remained still. Or maybe the maze is a better metaphor because I momentarily experienced progress until I reached another dead-end. I got confused and exhausted and lost my ability to prioritise the to-do list.
I’m still running but for the past ten days without coffee.
When I wrote the message, I was about to abandon Naive Yearly. I wanted to make it happen again, but the opportunities kept leading nowhere. I was frustrated because last summer was magical. We gathered a hundred people to celebrate the quiet, odd and poetic web. The mood throughout the day was uplifting, curious and kind, the speakers gave thoughtful and experimental talks, the participants opened their hearts to the strange and strangers, and I ended the day on the dance floor with Uno and Ana.
I then received the kindest email from Josh and Emily, two participants from last year, offering their help. I won’t recite their words, but they were lighting a thousand sparklers in a dark room. We jumped on a call. They were convivial and generous, and through Hypertext Foundation they offered to provide the financial backing to cover the travel and accommodation for the speakers.
The date for this year is now set. On September 20th, we gather at a Renaissance castle in Central Europe for the second edition of Naive Yearly. More information will follow next week.
With care
Kristoffer
Wayside flowers
https://chucumber.github.io/under-the-sea/kite/rain.html
Field notes
1.
»But here’s the question—where is this "internet" anyway? I know it exists, but I can’t see it. Its wires, cables, fiber optics are hidden behind the walls, in the ceilings, beneath the ground, under the sea……I have only seen pics of those subsea cables. They are thick as tree trunks and seemingly endless. If those are my kite strings, I gotta wonder how my tiny fingers manage them.«
From a cursor is a kite is a cursor by Kai Chuang. The text belongs to Polyphonic Shimmering, a lovely collection of graduate texts from VCU's School of the Arts. I highly recommend Molly Garrett’s reflection on writing ads for our three-second attention span and Aya Khalife’s report of texting her mother in Lebanon.
2.
https://how-to.computer — a self-hosting manual.
3.
One year ago, Spencer Chang, an internet caretaker decided to leave corporate life and become independent. In a recent blog post, he reflects on the past year and the lure and difficulties of being independent. Spencer’s work is full of care, soul and softness — and he is open to collabs.
4.
Participation: A golden ticket to the OIO School, paid residency at Sound Art Lab, and submissions for Taper #13.
Collections
I shared ten phone photos from my daily life with Common Discourse. Their archive is worthy of a Sunday; friendly people, vibrant links, and warm thoughts.
Last email was sent to 3164 inboxes. Logo by Dreams™. Photograph by Ana Šantl. And you can reach me at kristoffer@naiveweekly.com.