Category: Uncategorised

By Martina Denegri
m.d.denegri@rug.nl 

In the summer of 2024, the Utrecht-based foundation Creative Coding Utrecht (CCU) hosted the art exhibition “Composting Computers”. For two weeks, the headquarters of the organisation, the “Tree Tower”, was the backdrop of artworks and a series of workshops exploring relationships between human, nature and technology through the creative repurposing of e-waste and its encounters with organic materials. The final day of the exhibition marked a moment of transformation: CCU became a Zoöp. In the contract that formalised this shift, the signature of a plant appears among the signatures of human members of the organisation. This symbolic yet legally binding gesture demonstrates the commitment at the core of this pioneering model: organising as a multispecies collaboration aimed at ecological regeneration.

The Tree Tower. Photograph by author, March 2025.

Unlike modern approaches to organising and sustainability, the Zoöp Model grounds the human and its institutions in the web of life, working alongside non-humans for the flourishing of the ecosystems they share. The term is short for Zoöperation, a combination of the Greek word for life, zoe, and cooperation. The concept first appeared in 2018 in the context of the research project “Terraforming Earth” at Het Nieuwe Instituut (HNI), which became the first Zoöp in the world in 2022. At the time of writing, there are six Zoöps –HNI, Bodemzicht Foundation, De Ceuvel, Kunstfort Vijfhuizen and Creative Coding Utrecht, Waag Futurelab– but more Dutch and international organisations are expected to adopt the model in the upcoming period. Drawing from posthuman relational ontologies (in particular Rosi Braidotti), Indigenous cosmologies, the Rights of Nature movement and ecological economics, the Zoöp Model foregrounds the potential –and responsibility– of organisations to participate in the creation of shared, more-than-human worlds. 

In my thesis titled “Organising as Attuning” I studied CCU’s implementation of the Zoöp Model as an ecologically attuned mode of organising, a potential site of worldmaking where more-than-human forms of knowing, caring and working together can emerge. The concept of attunement was developed as a dialogue between organisation scholar Frank J. Barrett and ecological philosopher Timothy Morton. Attunement was thus defined as both an organisational capacity –cultivated through an aesthetic sensibility and practices of attention and surrender– and an ethico-political commitment to inviting more-than-human others in the processes of organising. The Zoöp model provided an interesting case to explore how such multispecies attunement could take shape in practice. 

Attunement diagram.

My findings, built on ethnographic research as well as the analysis of technological and artistic interventions, showed that being a Zoöp not only opens up new relational possibilities –or spaces of attunement– but also stimulates practices for sensing and making decisions amidst complex ecological relations. As a governance framework, it includes more-than-human voices and needs in decision-making, harbouring the potential to expand the organisation’s space of attunement. As a method, it takes organisations through a learning journey to become better participants in more-than-human ecologies, a process that requires attuning to situated bodies and rhythms. 

Nonetheless, the work of attuning is not much about harmony as it is about navigating frictions and continuous negotiations amidst uncertainty and complexity. Moreover, structural and institutional limitations often hinder this relational work. Cultural, economic, and political systems grounded in anthropocentric and extractivist paradigms not only fail to support more-than- human attunement but actively resist it. Yet, the difficult encounters with such constraints open spaces to question dominant logics. It is in the cracks opened by moments of friction and hesitation that alternatives can be imagined, and, however slowly, enacted. Rather than aiming for rapid or large-scale change, the attunement work of the Zoöp Model unfolds in these narrow spaces through small, situated interactions: the choice to listen before acting, to attune rather than ignore, to care rather than control. 

Read the full thesis here. 

Bio

Martina Denegri is a researcher, writer and curator. A graduate from the ReMa in Cultural Leadership at the University of Groningen, her research focuses on digital archival practices, the role of non-human agents in artistic production, and cultural policy. She currently holds a teaching position in the Department of Media and Journalism Studies at the University of Groningen. She is also the co-founder of WILLOW Online Art Space, a non-profit organisation creating spaces for autonomous art on the web, and critically investigating the digital and its infrastructure.

By Jin Liu

Much of the attention given to minority groups in society often stems from the protests and social unrest they initiate, while ‘well-behaved’ minorities are labelled as models because they are ‘harmless’ to public safety and social order. Silence is encouraged with the result that problems are covered up. The bias and marginalisation faced by these model citizens is often negotiated and internalised within the individual sphere. This process is tortuous and emotionally damaging, as well as autonomous and exploratory.

Due to the political turmoil following the Vietnam War, some Lao Hmong migrated to France in the late 1970s. Now, nearly 20,000 French Hmong make up the second largest Hmong community in the West after the United States. In France, where immigration issues have long been acute, the integration challenges faced by the friendly yet silent Hmong community have become further invisible. Especially for the 1.5 generation (those who came to France with their family at a young age) who lived through environmental changes and the 2nd generation who faced up to generational gaps. Their self-identification is shaped by policies, cultural environments and social values, which in turn affect the social bonds they build in France.

Source: https://hmongarchive.wordpress.com

In my recent study I observed that the 1.5 generation of French Hmong have a relatively clear Hmong cultural and ethnic identity. It is partly attributed to the cultural exclusion brought about by the democratisation of France in the 1970s, which led to the isolation of the Hmong community. On the other hand, those who spent their childhood or adolescence in foster care with French families developed a sense of ‘compensation’ due to their absence from their Hmong families, which later led them to devote themselves to reclaiming their ethnic art such as embroidery, dance, and Hmong song poetry (Kwv Txhiaj) rather than building a French cultural identity. The latter case shows the enduring influence of family values and emotional ties on Hmong’s self-development and the one-way ‘return’ can be seen as a policy consequence of the incompatibility of bicultural belonging. Their bond with France as a country to settle in, however, is enhanced because the traumatic memories of the war in their home region make them appreciate the present and, more importantly, the significant cost of the time and effort invested in getting citizenship constitutes an important part of their real lives.

Those 2nd-gen Hmong born in France around 2000 face less direct exclusion than their parents, but share the same fragmented sense of identity common to many in their generation: the selective neglect of Hmong history in schools makes them feel ‘betrayed’ and ignored, but their partial assimilation into French culture prevents them from fully embracing the traditional Hmong views of their elders. This places them in a dilemma, but at the same time inspires proactive cultural practice strategies: selectively accepting parts of French and Hmong culture that benefit their personal growth or exploring alternative forms of cultural expression, such as street art which is more closely related to the suburbs they grew up in.

However, the latter’s career path faces obstacles, as recent restrictive measures on street culture in France have blurred the lines between subculture and the mainstream. The de-undergrounding of street art has devalued the subcultural capital held by Hmong artists, putting them at a disadvantage in mainstream and commercialized competition once again. This has shaken the confidence of young Hmong in forging their new cultural identity in France, pushing many to return to the more welcoming—but still somewhat closed—Hmong community. In doing so, it subtly sustains and even deepens the existing social divides.

Silent groups are perhaps the most easily overlooked contributors to social fragmentation. Yet the issue of historically rooted cultural exclusion is a long-term challenge. So rather than debating values, policymakers should focus on the basics: ensuring the effective implementation of anti-discrimination measures, creating fair opportunities for competition, and delivering clear symbolic recognition of minority cultures to enhance their sense of belonging in society.

Liu Jin is a master’s student in Arts, Policy and Cultural Entrepreneurship at the University of Groningen. She holds a BA in Spanish and currently focuses on the sociology of art, cultural policy, and ethnic minority art practices. Outside of her academic work, she engages in jazz, experimental music, and Chinese ink painting.

jinliu995@gmail.com

by Marcell Bárdos
University of Groningen

As an aspiring academic and emigrant from a country under autocratic rule—the infamous Viktor Orbán’s Hungary—I have long had a natural interest in how contemporary art is used as means of manipulation by larger social and political forces. Accordingly, I devoted this project to investigating how culture is instrumentalized in my troubled home country. I chose to focus on a building I know well, Magyar Zene Háza, or the House of Music Hungary, which is a dazzling piece of architecture located in Budapest, a futuristic golden shelter that structurally imitates nature and music.

Promotion picture of the House of Music
(https://ligetbudapest.hu/projekt/magyar-zene-haza)

The House of Music was part of a highly expensive, state-financed prestige project to build cultural venues in Városliget, the city’s oldest and largest park. Its construction was surrounded by constant controversy, yet the final product was surprisingly well-received. Today, it hosts popular events as a museum, archive, and performance hall. However, the celebratory reception and commercial success conceals the more troubling aspects of its existence.

An explicit goal of the institution’s curators and star architect, Sou Fujimoto, was staging an immersive, multisensory experience for the visitors. For this reason, and to keep the project grounded in lived experience, I started my research with a field visit: documenting and immersing myself in the building’s tangible designed space. Prior to analysis, I observed how the House of Music’s spatial elements, like its golden canopy ceiling with leaf-like geometric patterns, shape my perception.

The building’s main hall (photography Marcell Bárdos)

The golden canopy ceiling with lamps hanging like tendrils (photography Marcel Bárdos)

My experience was twofold. I felt awe and aesthetic pleasure from the futuristic yet nature-like, disorienting interior. At the same time, I sensed an atmosphere of artificiality pervading the entire space; something I termed calculated organicity. This internal tension between amazement and alienation revealed to me that my wonder was artificially engineered. I intuited that the building wanted to enchant my perception in order to obscure something else.  

After my encounter, I began reflecting on my intuition, gradually uncovering a story of political deceit and corruption. Investigative reports from the Hungarian independent press exposed that the House of Music’s construction involved the destruction of cherished green spaces, the displacement of environmental protesters, and the funneling of public funds into the pockets of government-aligned businessmen. I drew on sociological studies on Orbán’s Hungary to frame these developments within the country’s broader politico-economic system. I found that the regime enforces an authoritarian form of capitalism which relentlessly accumulates wealth to the detriment of the country and its inhabitants.

To analyze the building’s social and cultural function, I used marketing and critical theory, that is, the concept of the “experience economy” and Adorno & Horkheimer’s critique of the culture industry. I arrived at the argument that the House of Music functions as a brand designed to sell an experience that not only commodifies art, but also markets and legitimizes the regime that financed it. Overall, I learned that contemporary immersive architectural design easily lends itself to political instrumentalization because of its illusionistic aesthetics. It erases underlying social relations and seduces the beholder through heavy impact on the senses. In this light, the House of Music is a lens onto contemporary soft propaganda, which increasingly operates not through plain repression, but orchestrated wonder.

The work of Marcell can be found on his Academia.edu page.

bardosmarci@hotmail.fr

Overwegingen bij een “why” van nieuw cultuurbeleid

door Geert Drion

We zitten middenin een herijking van het cultuurbeleid. De minister, de Raad voor Cultuur, de grote fondsen en de overheden zoeken naar een nieuwe onderbouwing van het publieke belang van kunst en cultuur, manoeuvrerend in de culturele spanningen van onze tijd.

Dat leidt tot vinnige discussies, waarin het belang van de kunsten en het belang van diversiteit en inclusie tegenover elkaar lijken te staan. Kan die impasse worden doorbroken? Er is een aanknopingspunt, waarmee het cultuurbeleid terugkomt in het hart van de publieke zaak, aan de basis van de open samenleving. De sector kan daar zélf verantwoordelijkheid voor nemen.

Continue reading “Dat het anders kan”

By Ruben Gjaltema

In this project I have looked into the impact of corona on HaFaBra (Harmony, Fanfare and Brassband) music in the Netherlands. More specifically I’ve looked at how Covid-19 (as a whole) changed the way music is made, and what this entails for the future (seeing this form of music is grounded in live performance). A major problem is that the varying Covid-19 measures and lockdowns have made it difficult to meet to practice or perform, especially in large numbers. This also meant that the specific scores written for harmony, fanfare, and brassbands couldn’t be played in the same way as before. Professional orchestras in the Netherlands have sidestepped this problem by dividing the different sections and arranging concerts per section. In the last three months, various concerts have been given by the brass section of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra (especially small brass), and the flugel-horn section of the Orkest Koninklijke Marechaussee. Moreover, various new ensembles have been established during the pandemic. The interviews with Peter Kleine Schaars, Pieter Gjaltema and Durk Krol reveal that within the HaFaBra music market new compositions are released, specifically for these new ensembles. What does this mean for the future of HaFaBra?