In the cracks between seats creaking under the weight of the monitized networks, in between blockbusters and sales and blaring quantification, behind the drama of the next-big-thing rolling over the bloated corpse of the last-big-thing, something quiet and incredible is happening. Humans (some brilliant some not) are making connections, linking things that should not be linked and discovering intersections where there were none before.
In most cases the best of this work is unnoticed and unsponsored, or is greater or more interesting than its context. It refuses to be domesticated because it is angry, or because it is timid, or because it simply cannot be: it fails to fit, it is rejected for being an outlier, or written off as a side effect.
Exiled truths find their own homes. Where no one is looking they curl nose-to-tail, generating their own warmth. The work is feral.
Ferality as a state of being, a state of mind, an approach: the welcoming of connections across silos and the confrontation of ignorance with a sense of curious play rather than fear.
We seek to celebrate and foster these connections: the odd and the brilliant and the hybrid and queer, the missing and the strange, bits of research that are unpopular or misunderstood, overlooked and miscategorized. The DJ/PhD, the philosopher without license, the laughing scientist, the artist writing code, the programmer changing politics.
Undefeatable lines of desire: Scar tissue ugly but strong. We delight in these, and so gather our examples as small gifts here in a pile.
This effort, too, is doomed, but cheerfully so. It is not an accounting, and there is no endgame, it’s a flotilla of thoughts that will keep us alive as we navigate the places in-between, a semi-periodic journal mending the holes that keep us apart, trying to stitch a fragile future we can all float in on.