How I discovered America

It is a banality to state that the discovery of America is an ideological chimera. America was not discovered, it was always both here and there. And here I must make a distinction between the Americas (a geographical location), and America (a concept, not a place). Although America cannot be separated from the horrors of slavery, and while America should not be imagined without the triangulations of the Black Atlantic, as a state of mind America necessarily exists here, there and everywhere (America is always and already manifesting itself as "Amerikkka"). America is many different places, but the America that particularly interested me as an adolescent was simultaneously the America exposed in films such as Super Fly and Cleopatra Jones (that is to say the America of Willie Mitchell and James Brown) – and America as the modernist utopia of an avant-garde reacting against the horrors of Nazism (that is to say, in theory the America of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, but in practice the America of McDonalds and Disneyland). America is always both within and without you. America is a poem by Allen Ginsberg. America is the counterculture, and the counterculture (particularly the American counterculture, and Americanism when used as a synonym for globalisation and/or patriotism) is and was invariably deformed by libertarianism. All of anarchism is to be found in the idea that it is possible to live differently in this world. The America I discovered was only a train ride away from London, it is also Summerland (the sleep of reason, a kind of living death).

For me photography is most alluring when both the person behind the lens and what is being photographed self-consciously manifest their subjectivity. Travelling across "Britain" to discover "America" is only one of the many ways in which such subjectivity might remake the world in both photographic and material form. This then is the difference between pastoralism and psychogeography. The psychogeographer (and photography is only of any interest to me in so far as it is a form of psychogeography) knows that the world cannot be recorded, it can only be remade. The pastoralist, on the other hand, wants to believe that everything that is fabricated pre-existed this fabrication, and that it will "endure" "forever" because it is in some way "natural" and "real". The pastoralist is incapable of properly articulating the difference between a William Morris wallpaper and a Jess Franco film, and will always prefer the reactionary idealism of arts and crafts to material science in the form of proletarian postmodernism. Truth is process, pastoralism stands for stasis and death.

I had been intending to subjectively remake myself in and through a series of photographs of "America" taken in "Britain" for some time before I fabricated the interventions inscribed here. A friend who’d just undergone a cure for heroin addiction sent me a partially used disposable camera. I exposed the rest of the film, and then became paranoid about the pictures I hadn’t taken, thinking they might be of almost anything, and were probably in some way disturbing (they certainly couldn’t "represent" my "brend"). It was months before I got the film developed, and when I did it transpired that the earlier exposures were largely blank (a classical example of "avant-garde" iconoclasm). I then bought another disposable camera and took further pictures. This time I took too many photographs because I had a whole roll of film to subvert, and rather than using everything I’d taken, I got to pick and choose – which allowed me to use half the pictures and abandon the rest (a rather nasty and "artistic" business). In a less than ideal world the photographs that follow would be reproduced twice, once in colour and once in black and white (the effects are at times strikingly different). This then is the world we must destroy – a world that does not allow me to be a polymorphous pervert in the morning, a horny handed son of toil in the afternoon, and a critical photographer at night (flash effects really aren’t my thing). "Defend" "America", shit on the stars and stripes!

Stewart Home, "Washington D.C." August 403 MKE.

The Stewart Home Society

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