…the recent cut-backs in higher education seen in much of the world cannot simply be traced to economic problems. Rather, they reflect fundamental choices about the nature of the society in which we will live. If it is to be designed for the wealthy and privileged, mostly engaged in management and finance while production is transferred abroad and most of the population is left to fend somehow for themselves at the fringes of decent and creative life, then these are good choices. If we have different aspirations for the world of our children and grandchildren, the choices are shameful and ruinous.
Sussex University is facing these same threats from a shamelessly neoliberal management, threats which involve both the redundancy of excellent academics and the loss of important campus services (including subsidised childcare and the sexual health centre). As Chomsky recognises, these threats are more than responses to economic problems: the dire current situation is being used to crowbar in changes to the very nature of the university.
Resistance is mounting, though, so I urge anyone (especially Sussex students) to get involved with Sussex Stop the Cuts, where there are also some excellent analyses of the situation in Sussex.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Adorno, Benjamin, Breton, Constellation, Dialectical Image, Frankfurt School, surrealism
There is a very interesting post over at Planomenology which asks, ‘What is a constellation?’ Along with its complementary motifs of the ‘dialectical image’ and the ‘dialectics at a standstill’, I suspect that the constellation is one of the most misused, or at least overdetermined, concepts that non-philosophers like myself take from Benjamin.
Planomenology’s understanding of the term doesn’t seem to clash with my own, but it certainly places emphases in different places. Planomenology treats the constellation as something of a process, or an active relation, which can affect the constellated materials in different ways. For me, the constellation is primarily a conceptual aesthetic, a darstellung perhaps, used by Benjamin and Adorno to comprehend the reification of socio-historical objects in an autonomously determined form. So instead of ‘allegory’, I would talk about ‘analogy’: the constellation groups things together, rather than asserting their separation.
Another slight difference, I suspect, between Planomenology’s reading and my own, is when Planomenology states that, ‘The constellation treats the constellated material much in the way the present may regard ancient ruins: now deprived of everything that furnished them with relevance and meaning, we are free to read into these ruins whatever fabulous and romantic significance we care to’. On the contrary, I feel that the constellation is constructed from what is alive within history but has been somehow smothered. Benjamin tells us that, ‘every image of the past that is not recognised by the present as one of its own concerns threatens to disappear irretrievably’, and thus the constellation is the arrangement of these images in a gesture towards the ‘realization of dream elements [which], in the course of waking up, is the paradigm of dialectical thinking’. The constellated materials are not so much ancient ruins, irrelevant and meaningless to the present, but stars, which we are told may well now be extinct, but whose light we can still recognise.
I’ve included below a couple of passages from my thesis where I too ask, ‘what is a constellation?’, in relation to Andre Breton’s various prehistories of Surrealism, the crappiness of the English Surrealists’ attempts at recognising their own dialectical origins, and in mind of the communications between Benjamin and Adorno.
Adorno begins from a position whereby the dialectic has already been brought to a standstill: the stasis of the present is not the necessary condition for conscious use of the dialectic, but the result of an anti-dialectical suppression of historical progress; the dialectic of history has already been suppressed by a false, capitalist, conception of progress. The degraded, static and reified present, for Adorno, is not in the first instance a point of departure but the end result of a process of the entrenchment of capitalism. The constellation is thus the arrangement and juxtaposition of historical objects so as to expose this condition. Adorno describes his conception of the constellation in Negative Dialectics as follows:
“Cognition of the object in its constellation is cognition of the process stored in the object. As a constellation theoretical thought circles the concept it would like to unseal, hoping that it will fly open like the lock of a well-guarded safe-deposit box: in response, not to a single key or a single number, but to a combination of numbers.”
Read in isolation, this passage casts light on Breton’s Surrealist prehistories: not as demonstrations of Surrealism’s authenticity through its embeddedness within history (as if its repeated occurrence were evidence enough of its essential integrity), but as a negative image of Surrealism, marking not its content but its boundaries and co-ordinates. A deeper reading, however, will reveal that unlike Breton’s Surrealist prehistories which ‘express what is strange and surprising in terms of what is already familiar’, Adorno’s constellations do not mark out the social space for something as yet unrecognised or for something to be added to social interaction. Instead, they demonstrate the falseness and inherent conflicts of a society which projects itself as complete, whole and unified. Adorno sees narrative as having been collapsed and history as having solidified and congealed into the eternally invariant present of capitalism.
…
Benjamin’s sixteenth and seventeenth ‘Theses on the Philosophy of History’ offer his interpretation of the task of the historical materialist. In the sixteenth, he explains that the historical materialist must ‘blast open the continuum of history’; in the seventeenth, arguing against ‘universal history’, he adds that historical materialism is based upon a ‘constructive principle’ whereby ‘thinking involves not only the flow of thoughts, but their arrest as well’.
The Surrealists too believed that the stasis and reification of the present could be catalysed into movement, but through a more instrumental praxis of presenting empirical reality with its antithesis, the dream-state. Benjamin’s method diverged from this position in that he did not seek a synthesis of waking and dreamt life in surreality, but attempted to use the dream-state (now the dream-image) to reawaken from sleep the historical dialectic: ‘whereas Aragon persistently remains in the realm of dreams, here it is a question of finding the constellation of awakening’. In ‘Paris, the Capital of the Nineteenth Century’, the exposé of 1935 that prefigured his Arcades Project, Benjamin proposes that society dreams the image of its own succession, and then that ‘the realization of dream elements, in the course of waking up, is the paradigm of dialectical thinking’.
…
The difference between Adorno’s constellation and Benjamin’s constellations is that, within the former, the dialectical image must be interpreted. The danger of presenting socio-historical objects as they are, however juxtaposed, is that their prior reification may risk not being exposed. This difference was the basis for Adorno rejecting Benjamin’s submission of excerpts of the Arcades Project to the Frankfurt School’s journal: ‘Unless I am very much mistaken, your dialectic lacks one thing: mediation’. With the systematically arranged and mediated constellation, Adorno hoped to catalyse forms of dialectical self-consciousness that would not shy from the negative, the contradictory or the antithetical. Adorno’s method is to expose antinomies and resist capitalism’s totalising and reifying drives not through forcing syntheses but by constellating incommensurable social objects to demonstrate the totality’s own structural faults and ‘false harmony’. Surrealism’s failure to transcend its own reification is demonstrated in its imagining that such a linear and intentional praxis could challenge a culture industry that is actually strengthened by superficial demonstrations of resistance. In contrast to Surrealism’s rigidly dialectical approach, the constellation offers a means of comprehending the reification of socio-historical objects in an autonomously determined aesthetic form.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I just reread a couple of old posts and was quite frankly embarrassed at my failure to spellcheck. Rather than actually revise any posts, I’ve tried to justify this blog’s rough-round-the-edges and often rather rushed appearance with a new About page, containing a suitably evasive quote from Walter Benjamin.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Ali Smith, Coke, McDonalds, The Accidental, The Guardian
She’d drunk Coke in a hotel room in Rome. She’d drunk Coke in a bar overlooking a palace in Granada. She’d drunk Coke in a chalet bar up a mountain in Switzerland. She’d drunk Coke on several aeroplanes. She’d drunk Coke in a hotel bar in Nice on the Promenade des Anglais, across the road from a group of drug addicts on the stony beach. She’d drunk Coke in the air conditioning of a restaurant in a rich suburb of Colombo, through the front windows of which she had seen children living in a derelict tower with rags hanging from the holes where its windows should be. She’d drunk Coke in a filthily expensive bar in Cape Town. She’d been down a dirt track in Ethiopia in the middle of nowhere where there was nothing but scorch, nothing but flies, nothing to eat, nothing to farm, nothing but an old tyreless truck and some standing shacks, and the thin and always smiling people who lived there had welcomed her in, given her everything they had, which was almost nothing, then they’d swept her into their ramshackle bar like she was a whole festival and they’d presented her to the Coke machine, in front of which several of them had argued and nodded and clubbed together and shouted for more people until they eventually found enough money and let coin after coin drop into the slot until the can thudded into the dust-covered mouth of the machine. I am posting this from the airport, she wrote on the postcard home. Just to let you know I just drank my last ever Coke.
Ali Smith, The Accidental (2005)
.jpg "McDonalds")
The vast majority of Icelanders couldn’t be happier. After all, economic crisis notwithstanding, this country’s food production is, by most standards, exceptional. In purely gastronomic terms, the abandonment of the McDonald’s franchise should be a vast improvement. Iceland was one of the last western countries to open a McDonald’s – the first one opened in 1993. Prior to that, most Icelanders were fairly proud of the fact that this symbol of American multinational domination had yet to plant its golden emblem on Icelandic soil. So when McDonald’s finally did open, it felt a little bit like we’d lost our innocence.
The Guardian (27/10/2009)
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Alain Badiou, Blanqui, Communards, Communist Hypothesis, jacques ranciere, kristin ross, Rimbaud, Tate Britain, The Coming Insurrection
Kristin Ross – something of an academic heroine of mine – spoke at Tate Britain last Tuesday, delivering a paper that she introduced as a response to the question, ‘Are you a democrat?’ ‘Democrat’, here, is democrat, rather than Democrat: the question asking not so much for Ross to place herself on a political spectrum, but instead to investigate what the concept of democracy means in modern society.
Using the example of Ireland’s initial No vote to the Lisbon Treaty, Ross argued that democracy – Western, representative, liberal democracy – as it actually exists is essentially an oligarchical democracy, which is geared towards wealth and towards the inevitable emergence of the middle and upper classes. At the same time, this oligarchical democracy respects democratic rituals, assured that its favoured results will always emerge. That Ireland’s No vote was harried until it became a Yes vote is testament to the fact that democracy has come to function as ‘voiceless assent’. Governability is the logic of a political process that evades democratic accountability, focussing political power safely ‘elsewhere’.
Ross looked at two alternative understandings of ‘democracy’: Ranciere’s Classical interpretation as ‘the capacity to do things’; and Blanqui’s rejection of the term as hollow and a tool of ‘schemers’. Ross traced some historical instances of when, how and by whom the term ‘democrat’ has been used. During the 1830-40s, in France, the term was used by a wide range of far leftist groups, yet by the time of the Second Empire, the term was increasingly allied to bourgeois and centrist ideologies. The Communards then rarely called themselves democrats, despite the fact that they established a number of what we might now recognise as directly democratic political processes and measures.
Ross, beautifully, used Rimbaud’s ‘Democracy’ and ‘Clearance Sale’ (both from Illuminations) as poems that capture the moment when imperial power claimed the term ‘democracy’ as its own, as a means of governance rather than an emancipatory principle. Democracy as the right to buy. The Cold War, finally, came to be understood as the moment when this elitist democracy (now inextricable from the free market) conquered its opposition, communism.
Right at the end of her talk, Ross pointed towards some avenues whereby questions could be asked of the hegemony of the dominant understanding of ‘democracy’. A double movement was proposed, firstly to recognise the contemporary nonexistence of democracy, and secondly to reconfigure the term, reinvest it with meaning. Quite what this newly configured democracy might look like remains unclear, though it seems that Ross was less interested in (what she posited as) Badiou’s sense of democracy being inextricable from parliamentary representation and capitalism, and more inclined towards Ranciere’s understanding of democracy as a total politics (and an embryonic communism). What we do have, where we can begin our reconfiguration of the concept of ‘democracy’, are democratic moments like the Commune; moments which contain momentum.
Ross’ proposals should not sound unfamiliar. Badiou and Zizek, most prominently, have both attempted to semiotically disrupt notions of ‘communism’, to remove the stained signifieds of Stalinism and totalitarianism and reinvent communism as a philosophical principle. The idea of communism. Likewise, the Invisible Committee, in The Coming Insurrection, argue for a communism that simply ignores the meanings that the term has accrued throughout the Twentieth Century. Communism as ‘the basic unit of partisan reality’.
All of these projects, these reinventions, are almost inconceivably grand, adding etymological and semiotic challenges to a Left that is already floundering under the weight of its tasks. But as Ross’ book on May ‘68 demonstrated, the meanings of historical moments have always been instable, open as much to recuperation as to reparative readings. For now, I just want to question, briefly, what might be significant in Ross’ assertion that it is ‘democracy’, rather than ‘communism’, which must be reinvented.
I make a distinction here between Badiou’s Communist Hypothesis and Ross’ Democratic Hypothesis. Their projects may not actually be opposed, but they are certainly articulated in different terms. Firstly, both hypotheses wish to illuminate the falsifications of actually existing democracy, to say, ‘This is not democracy as an emancipatory and fair principle. Look how it functions in real terms: it is oppressive and unjust.’ This is not an easy project, but it is a necessary one in a (Western) world that so often declares itself as emerging from History into the promised future of liberal, capitalist, democracy. Both hypotheses question the entity that depicts itself as the last man standing, imperfect but still the best option, the victor of the historical process of political evolution. Neither hypothesis is, in the first instance, a positive or affirmative one.
It is in their second movements where the two hypotheses diverge. The Communist Hypothesis, having illuminated the degradation of the present, points towards something which is already out there somewhere, even if only (in Badiou’s terms) as a ‘horizon’. ‘The communist hypothesis remains the good one, I do not see any other’ [my italics, Badiou’s words]. There is an anterior presence which is still – after a little tweaking – preferable to the current order.
The Democratic Hypothesis is rather less binary, or at least less oppositional. The Democratic Hypothesis says that democracy as it exists is not the democracy that we want, but it cannot say that if we look in another direction we will find a different entity towards which we should move. By retaining the term ‘democracy’, Ross is doing more than saying that the foundations of a better order are the same foundations that the current order (falsely) claims; she is also saying that the order which must supercede the present must simultaneously emerge from the present. The Democratic Hypothesis is immanent, not alterior.
I realise that I make a jump here, in saying that Ross’ conception of democracy does not posit itself as an Other, as an entirely separate configuration, but as an improvement (either a forward progression or a return to a historical moment of ideological divergence). She may well be saying that she envisages a contest between one democracy and another: capitalist democracy, say, versus Communard-style direct democracy. If this is the case, I do not understand why she (and, by extension Ranciere) insist upon the importance of ‘democracy’ as a label.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: adbusters, big ideas of 2010, The Coming Insurrection, the invisible committee
My review/critique of the Invisible Committee’s The Coming Insurrection is in the current adbusters, and is available at present on their website.
This being the first thing I’ve written that a large number of people are likely to read (PhD, 3 years; likely readership, 3 people), I feel impelled but also wary to defend the article. In the Comments box on the adbusters site, someone’s already addressed me as ‘Mr Cooper’*, which feels rather peculiar. However, the article was edited before publication, and there are two particular changes to the original that I would like to qualify:
1) The opening sentence, presently, runs:
The instability of meaning within the society of the spectacle is such that a statement can contain two opposing messages simultaneously.
Originally, I had said ‘… within what we might call the society of the spectacle…’. I think this is an important clause, whereby I am attempting to problematise the too-easy adoption of a social diagnosis as broad as Debord’s society of the spectacle. Instead of saying, ‘yes, we live in a spectacular society’, let’s look at the type of power relations Debord is describing, and see how far they extend into scenarios that we recognise.
2) Another sentence now reads:
Capitalism, as we are hearing more and more regularly, is in crisis.
My original had said that ‘Capitalism… is crisis’. I don’t really understand why they’ve changed this: I don’t think that capitalism is in crisis, it will certainly mutate and recover. I was referencing the slogan, ‘capitalism is crisis’, that seems to have appeared in the last year (in England at least), which itself references the now familiar argument that capitalism needs a series of crises to sustain itself.
Anyway, I’m very grateful to adbusters for contacting me and allowing me to revisit The Coming Insurrection (they contacted me following the original review here).
*So much for blog anonymity.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: english section of the situationist international, internationale situationniste, not bored, SI, the revolution of modern art and the modern art of revolution, tim clarke, TJ Clark, vaneigem
‘The Revolution of Modern Art and the Modern Art of Revolution’ is the only substantial document produced by the short-lived English Section of the Situationist International. Chronos, who first published the document as a pamphlet in 1994, report that the essay was produced in 1967 for the first issue of an English Situationist journal, although the English Section’s expulsion on December 21st meant that the essay long went unpublished. The group was composed of Charles Radcliffe, Tim Clarke, Christopher Gray and Donald Nicholson-Smith, and whilst Radcliffe had already resigned for personal reasons, the latter three’s expulsion was due to their allegedly having sided with the American Ben Morea (of Black Mask and Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker) in a dispute with Raoul Vaneigem, as reported in Internationale Situationniste 12 (September 1969). Although Ralph Rumney and Alexander Trocchi had both previously been members of the SI, Radcliffe, Clarke, Gray and Nicholson-Smith represent the SI’s only recognised English Section.
As Not Bored note, the ‘Revolution of Modern Art’ essay displays a curious time-lag in its sole citation of the SI, using a quotation from the first Internationale Situationniste, which had been published nine years previously, in 1958. Rather than this lag being due to the unavailability of translations of Situationist work, or to ‘the relative “immaturity” of the English situationists’ theoretical development’ (the quoted passage is taken from the SI’s earliest self-pronouncements, whose tight focus had dispersed into much broader concerns by 1967), Not Bored propose that the English situationists were producing ‘an intentional distancing’ between themselves and the SI as it then existed, ‘because they [the English section] weren’t ever really committed to being members of any type of official organization’. Not Bored are surprisingly approving of the post-SI trajectories of the English situationists, who ‘were and are still deeply committed to the dissemination of situationist theory and to the undertaking of the situationist project by as many autonomous people as possible’. This commendation stands in stark contrast to Chronos’s blurb, which accuses the English situationists of ‘a certain amount of vulgarisation’, before individually denouncing Gray, Clark, Radcliffe and Nicholson-Smith.
‘The Revolution of Modern Art’ attempts four things: to recapitulate (or introduce) the central tenets of Situationist theory, presumably to a British audience underexposed to the movement; to denounce the contemporary Left; to call attention to a selection of situationist theses most relevant to Britain, with particular consideration of the potentially revolutionary role of the lumpenproletariat; and to more generally reconfigure what should be the concerns and praxis of a modern revolutionary movement.
The essay does not introduce the SI as such, only aspects of its theory as articulated at its moment of inception. The English situationists are thus most concerned with ideas of play, of rewriting urban space, of the game, and of the necessity of a ludic revolution: ‘Life is revealed as a war between the commodity and the ludic’. They criticise the New Left’s failure to recognise that a critique of capitalism must incorporate a willingness to invent new ways of living. On art, the English situationists recount familiar lessons of the irretrievable recuperation of the artwork as aesthetic object, and offer a narrative of the historical avant-garde as a descent into nihilism.
The most interesting developments – or divergences – made by the English situationists are those borne of their attempts to anglicise situationist theory. Most of this anglicisation addresses very directly a particular period of the British Sixties counterculture. So, the essay is dismissive of the beatnik/hippy scene’s retreat to mysticism: ‘Without the drugs it could be explosive’. Antonioni, Ionesco, and Robbe-Grillet, as well as Leary, Warhol and Burroughs, are all said to ‘re-enact a Dadaist revulsion from contemporary life – but their revolt, such as it is, is purely passive, theatrical and aesthetic, shorn of any of the passionate fury, horror or desperation which would lead to a really destructive praxis’. In their attack on Ionesco, Leary and Burroughs in particular, the English situationists were attacking ex-situationist Alexander Trocchi’s generation of avant-gardist cultural activity, demonstrating that the development of English situationism was not linear. The English Section were not taking over from Trocchi’s situationist-inflected ‘project sigma’, but developing tangentially with a very different interpretation of the original Continental theory.
An overarching concern of the English Section is locating the site of the most promising avant-gardist activity within spectacular-commodity society. Theirs is a world of social distinctions, between and within the intelligentsia, the proletariat, the artists, the counterculture, and so on. Regarding the intelligentsia, the English situationists draw a line between the majority which has ‘quite crudely, sold out’, and ‘its truly dissident and imaginative elements’ which have withdrawn increasingly from production and collaboration ‘to become indistinguishable from the rest of the new lumpenproletariat in their open contempt and derision for the “values” of consumer society’.
The question of the lumpenproletariat is critical for the English Section. Not Bored explain that, ‘In the “lumpen” the English situationists include rioters, juvenile delinquents, petty criminals, thrill seekers, shoplifters, members of such organized groups as the Provos and the Hell’s Angels, and working-class subcultural groups as the Mod and the Rockers’. In what Chronos call their ‘crass eulogy of the violence of juvenile delinquents’, we can assume that the English situationists were drawing from Morea’s Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker group and their self-identification as a ‘street gang with analysis’, although the notion of politicising delinquent violence was also explored in Vaneigem’s Revolution of Everyday Life and the ’66 pamphlet ‘On the Poverty of Student Life’. King Mob, the incarnation of the English Section after its expulsion from the SI, practiced more immediately the combination of situationist critique with hooligan aesthetics.
‘The Revolution of Modern Art’ makes the claim that ‘the juvenile delinquents… are the true inheritors of Dada’. As a ‘spontaneous rebuttal’ of capitalist prerogatives and a ‘grass-root refusal of hierarchically organised distribution’, shoplifting is rather spuriously cast as something that Michel de Certeau would later call a tactic: resistance from within, an everyday gesture of noncompliance. At present, we are told, such gestures are limited, again leading only to nihilism. Deliquent violence, then,
Is a spontaneous overthrow of the abstract and contemplative role imposed on everyone, but the deliquents’ inability to grasp any possibility of really changing things once and for all forces them, like the Dadaists, to remain purely nihilistic.
The English Section advocate that the aforementioned ‘rebel intelligentsia’ should operate within the lumpenproletariat, to harness the latter’s energies whilst precipitating its crisis, which will prefigure a revolutionary scenario. Again, the English situationists display close concerns with Vaneigem, who wrote: ‘Nihilists, as de Sade would have said, one more effort if you want to be revolutionaries!’ Not Bored highlight a difference here between the anglicised situationist theory and its continental forebear:
For the continental SI, the goal was to negate the separation between the intelligentsia (which includes the art world and the student milieu) and the proletariat; but for the English situationists, the goal was to negate the separation between the lumpenproletariat and the proletariat.
This tension between lumpen and prole (a distinction, I suspect, founded more in caricature than any sort of research) is what Not Bored also recognise as the driving force of punk, whose origins have previously been traced through the English Section of the SI, and especially Chris Gray’s desire to produce ‘a totally unpleasant pop group’.
This type of street fighting logic, often cartoonish and caricatured, which arms the lumpenproletariat with situationist theory, has coloured much of the development of English situationist practice: from King Mob’s street gang posturing (later renounced by Dave and Stuart Wise as a ‘hysterical over emphasis of violence’); to Stewart Home’s early fiction, with its skinheads and bootboys; right through to Laura Oldfield Ford’s aesthetic of Special Brew and ultraviolence. Even in France, The Coming Insurrection echoes this glorification of delinquent violence in finding its promise of future revolt in the banlieu riots. At a later date, I hope to investigate these motifs as they continue beyond the English Section into King Mob.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Aberdeen, aesthetics and politics, Black Mask, Charles Fourier, detournement, Guy Debord, Jorgen Nash, king mob, Marquis de Sade, Oz, Recuperation, Rethinking Complicity and Resistance, Roland Barthes, situationist, situationist international, Spur, Tom Vague, Up Against the Wall Motherfucker
Below: my paper from the fantastic ‘Rethinking Complicity and Resistance’ conference at Aberdeen last weekend (abstract).
‘The existing images only reinforce the existing lies’: The Situationist International in and against visuality.
Still from ‘In Girum Imus Nocte et Consumimur Igni’ (1978)
‘The existing images only reinforce the existing lies’.
This statement, from the voiceover of Guy Debord’s 1978 film, ‘In Girum Imus Nocte et Consumimur Igni’, is striking not only for its absolute denial of the radical or emancipatory potential of the image, but also for its melancholy, its despondency. Though we might imagine that Debord was ruminating on his failure to discover a visual language that could destabilise what he had identified as the spectacular order of modern capitalism – the society of the spectacle – he had actually shown signs of having lost faith in the image as early as 1952, when his first film, ‘Howls in Favour of Sade’, had consisted of a black screen with no accompanying sound, interspersed periodically with nothing more than a white screen and some fragmented voiceover. ‘Howls…’ contained nothing of the visceral Sadeian exuberance suggested by its title and in its imagelessness it discarded the fundamental unit of the cinema. By contrast, ‘In Girum…’ was far less absolute, far less cynical. (more…)
Filed under: Uncategorized
I would thoroughly recommend anyone living in London to go see the Gustav Metzger exhibition currently being held at the Serpentine gallery. I would try to say something clever about auto-destructive art and so on, but I’m tired so fuck it, I’ll just point you towards Stewart Home instead.
