New Archives video

New video from Archives New Zealand, describing a little bit of what they do, and why. Quite good really.

From Christchurch to Chiapas: Red Fed poster in Mexico

Over at Justseeds.org the team have just posted a few pics of some Celebrate People's History posters subverting the Mexican scenery — including my poster on the New Zealand 'Red' Federation of Labor (far right). Next time I'll have do do a version in Spanish!

Absence, Archives, and Assignments...

I haven't posted here in a while — the Christchurch earthquake, an obsession with my research on Joe Hill, and becoming a student has meant this wee blog has been neglected. Sorry blog.

I'm going to be posting up essays and things from my Postgrad Certificate (eventually Masters) in Information Studies. I'm not sure if anyone will find them interesting, but hey, it's better than them sitting on my desktop.

Here's assignment number one: to critically review two online Archive exhibitions at Archives NZ.


Exhibition Review
With the growth of archive advocacy, archives across the globe are employing the use of online exhibitions. Like the museum sector before them, the power of the object (the record) and the access to our collective heritage is being promoted in the virtual realm. Unlike the museum sector however, archival exhibitions come with a number of concerns unique to its field. These include principles of original order, the loss of archival bonds, the importance of the record’s context (provenance, integrity, authenticity), and the level of interpretation provided.

This essay aims to highlight the formalist and analyst approach to interpretation as identified by Peter Lester (Lester, 2001), through the examination of two online Archives New Zealand exhibitions. Both ‘Passchendale Casualty Forms’ and ‘An Impressive Silence’ deal with New Zealand’s involvement in the First World War, but in very different ways and with very different results.

Passchendaele Casualty Forms

In 2005 the personnel files of those who served in the New Zealand Defence Services, namely in the South African War and the First World War, were transferred to Archives New Zealand (Lafferty-Hancock, 2006). As well as general records pertaining to each soldier, casualty forms are also included. ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ makes a selection of these records available as an easy to use online exhibition.

Upon ‘entering’ the exhibition, the viewer is greeted with a brief explanation on the series’ original source and the selected files on show. The records are accessed through an alphabetically organised list of soldiers (of which there are close to 700). These are then displayed to the left of a generic description on how to use Archway (Archives New Zealand’s finding aid) in order find out more on that particular soldier. In Flanders Fields, a poem by John McCrae, serves as the solitary contextual information alongside the records.

The usability of the exhibition is excellent. A clean and concise layout, coupled with a linear process, enables the user to easily find the records on show. However this comes at the expense of a choice-led experience through the exhibition, and the possibility of user interaction. There are no hyper links to outside contextual information, and the user is confined to exploring the records as determined by the structure of the exhibition; that is, alphabetically. There is no space for comments or other participatory functions (commonly described as Web 2.0).

The lack of contextual information and the relatively linear format would suggest that ‘Passchendale Casualty Forms’ is an object-focused exhibition, employing a ‘formalist’ methodology (Lester, 2001, p.93). The records are essentially left to ‘speak for themselves.’ This may be appropriate given the kind of emotional response viewers could have to such records (especially family members) and the sheer amount of records on display. But as a result, the exhibition fails to locate the subject at hand within a broader historical framework, concentrating solely on the records themselves.

This object-focus is made clear in the title of the exhibition and reinforced throughout its opening description. The viewer is given some background information about how the records relate to the Ypres-Passchendale sector of Belgium during 1917-1918, and that many of the casualties on show are buried at Tyne Cot Military Cemetery. We are also told what the records contain, such as name, date of birth, rank, and the movements of the individual during their service.

What we are not given is any information about the Battle of Passchendaele, or how events at Passchendaele sit in wider relation to the First World War. In fact, the First World War is not mentioned at all. Nor is the reason for New Zealand’s involvement in the First World War, including who and what caused so many casualties amongst the New Zealand forces.

This lack of wider context assumes the viewer has prior knowledge of the Battle of Passchendaele and indicates the exhibition’s target audience: genealogists, researchers, and war historians. Yet some basic background information on why these young men were in Belgium, and what they perceived themselves to be fighting (and dying) for, could have personalised the records and placed them into a wider framework of understanding. It would also have made the exhibition (and the records) more available to a larger audience.

Because of the lack of contextual information, the exhibition offers limited interpretation of the records or how they contribute to the larger topic of the First World War. But if one takes a moment to examine the records and use the Archways finding aid provided, the viewer can gain access to a wealth of contextual information not explicitly described. It is the records, the facilitation of self-driven research and the use of Archives New Zealand via Archway that is the exhibition’s strength.

The records consist of two personnel forms: Form B.103 and Form NZR.2, which are described in Archway’s Series Description. The series from which the 700 records come from is hyper linked in the initial text of the exhibition. It is here the viewer is given a history of the records: who created them, how they are arranged, and how they came to Archives New Zealand. The integrity of the files is also described — we are told that sometime before transferral the records were integrated from two sequences into one.

The records themselves are reproduced relatively well and are filled with a variety of information (which makes up for the lack of contextual information). The enlargement of records, however, is limited to one zoom. Nonetheless, the viewer can still get a sense of the individual’s life during their service, such as where they served, if they were promoted, and how they were killed. Evident is the fact that many of these soldiers were wounded more than once. For example, Mathias Becks of the Wellington Infantry, was wounded on 24 June 1917, and then killed in action on 4 October 1917.

How the records are displayed raises a number of questions about the archival principle of original order. For example, the records are displayed and arranged by page, yet the pages are not displayed in any particular order — both the records of an individual and across the collection. The front and back of Matthias Becks’ B.103 Form are not displayed together; instead, the first page of his NZR.2 Form divides it. In some cases the front page of a form is displayed at the bottom of the page, rather than at the top. Likewise, the records of some individuals start with the blue B.103 Form while others start with the white NZR.2 Form. This randomness of display is to either preserve the original order of the physical records, or the result of haphazard uploading on the part of the exhibitors. The lack of contextual information means we do not know the reason for such arrangement.

The information provided does not explain the reason why the casualty forms of the Ypres-Passchendaele sector were selected for display, or how the 700 records from that sector were chosen for digital reproduction. The viewer is not told how many more records from the Ypres-Passchendaele sector are available, or whether records from other sectors are as available as the records on display.

This formalist method of interpreting the records suggests the premise of the exhibition and its intended audience: the highlighting of Archives New Zealand’s acquisition of personnel files and their availability to genealogists, researchers and war historians through Archways. In this sense, the exhibition is rather successful in meeting its intended thesis.

Research into how genealogists search for information revealed that “genealogists… wanted lists of names, or names indexes, or search engines that retrieved by name to facilitate their research” (Duff & Johnson, 2003, p.85). The alphabetical structure of the records and the encouraged use of names in Archway ensure these needs are met. Instead of being given the reference number to each file, the viewer is prompted to enter the individual’s name into Archway in order to find out more. This prompt appears to the right of every record on display. In the case of Matthias Becks, entering his name in Archway furnished an additional digital file not on display in the exhibition.

What this highlights is that Archives New Zealand has more records to access, that they are easy to access, and most importantly, that the user can do it themselves. It promotes the use of archival material and archives, Archway as a functional finding aid, and fulfils the mandate of Archives New Zealand to show “public archives are accessible and used” (http://.archives.govt.nz/about).

That genealogists can easily access these records online or through Archway is the standout feature of the exhibition. While the documents themselves do not evoke reservoirs of resonance, ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ is an excellent online resource for family wanting to learn more about their loved ones, and succinctly promotes the value of the archival record and archives in general.

An Impressive Silence

In contrast to the formalist method taken in ‘Passchedaele Casualty Forms’, ‘An Impressive Silence: Public Memory and Personal Experience of the Great War’ employs a range of interactive tools to mark the 90th Anniversary of the end of the First World War. It offers a wealth of contextual information, analysis, and interpretation. Originally a physical exhibition, the online version uses a vast array of records to cover a number of perspectives, while the exhibition itself is organised in a way to promote both a user-led experience and the aesthetic strengths of the records. However, like ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’, the exhibition is not without its faults.

The opening description of ‘An Impressive Silence’ presents a number of questions and perspectives, acknowledging the “differing attitudes visible during and after the war” (http://exhibitions.archives.govt.nz/animpressivesilence). The interpretation provided by the exhibition goes some way in highlighting these attitudes, challenging normative views on the Great War and providing a balanced analysis. The first section, ‘Off to War’, includes traditional information around New Zealand’s entry into the Great War, but also includes overlooked anti-war perspectives of anti-militarists and conscientious objectors. Records are provided to further illustrate their oppositional viewpoint.

In doing so, the exhibition is both evocative and didactic, contributing to a more in-depth understanding of the First World War and those returning from it. Covering the challenges and concerns of those coming home from the war is the exhibition’s intended thesis, and while more information on the records would have helped enrich its analysis, ‘An Impressive Silence’ meets its mandate in an open, entertaining and engaging manner.

‘An Impressive Silence’ takes “the ‘analyst’ approach, in which meaning and ideas become the focus of the exhibition” (Lester, 2001, p.93). The context, and in turn, the records, are used to illustrate its central theme. There are five sections of focus ordered chronologically, each with its own theme, home page, contextual information, sub-menu, records, and related links. In turn, each sub-menu has its own records and information, ranging from recruitment and propaganda to the physical and mental costs of the war.

The user can navigate through these menus in any order they please, visit the many hyper links to outside information within the text, and use interactive media such as audio and video. An interactive timeline at the bottom of each page, a gallery section that alphabetically databases the records, and an excellent search function, adds to the user-led experience.

The pitfalls of too much choice or too much content can often accompany such an approach. Studies around online museum exhibitions have shown that when users are faced with too many options, they can be overwhelmed, “skim[ing] the available choices, and select what appears to them to be the first most plausible choice. Even if a more likely choice appears later on in the list of possible choices, few users will have the patience required to find it” (Marty & Twidale, 2004). ‘An Impressive Silence’ seems get the balance of choice and content just right. That the exhibition can be read in a number of ways rather than in one linear process avoids the issue of skipping a crucial part of the narrative. In other words, the exhibition doesn’t have to be viewed from start to finish in order to gain something from it.

Unfortunately, the user’s gain in personalised navigation and in-depth information is the record’s loss. The records are visually exciting, engaging, evocative, and begging for their own descriptions, yet they are completely devoid of contextual information. Apart from a title (often cut short due to graphic design constraints) and an archive reference number, the user is not told who created the record, where it came from, and what else is the series. Records are pulled from their archival bonds and displayed to represent the text, and not the other way round. As a result and in contrast to ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’, the records become “mere props to the story”, easily replaceable by “an illustrated publication or leaflet” (Lester, 2001, p. 93).

For example, there is a number of visually striking recruitment posters throughout the exhibition. But in order to find out anything about the creator, the viewer has to squint at the fine print on the poster itself. For viewers of an artistic bent, information around the size of the poster, its print medium and whether there are more posters by the same artist would go a long way. For users of archives, knowing what other posters are contained in the series or where one can find similar posters in the vaults is also important.

Having the option of viewing each record’s context, in a pop up box or in the gallery section, would have produced an even more rewarding online experience. While the records do generally fit with the theme of each page and the narrative provided, a degree of meaning is lost when the object is not put into its own context. Doing so may have swamped the viewer with too much information, but if structured well, it could have also created even more interactive learning opportunities — meeting the needs of specific audiences in an original and intellectually rich manner.

Conclusion

The Archives New Zealand exhibitions reviewed above illustrate two different approaches to interpreting archival records online. The ‘formalist’ approach in ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ places emphasis on the object, making the archival record readily available but at the expense of analysis and interpretation. ‘An Impressive Silence’ employs an ‘analyst’ methodology, providing a wealth of challenging and informative context that engages the viewer, but neglects the record. Both have their strengths and weaknesses, and both are appropriate for their intended audiences.

Lester argues that “the best approach is to take a middle line between these two methods”, so that the viewer can derive their own meaning and engage with the “social, cultural and economic factors surrounding the record’s context and use” (Letser, 2001, p.93). In the two exhibitions above, the middle ground, unfortunately, remained untouched.


References

• Archives New Zealand: About Us (2000). Retrieved March 19, 2011, from http://archives.govt.nz/about

• An Impressive Silence: Public Memory and Personal Experience of the Great War (2008). Retrieved March 18, 2011, from http://exhibitions.archives.govt.nz/animpressivesilence/

• Duff, W. M. & Johnson, C. A. (2003). Where is the list with all the names? Information seeking behavior of genealogists. American Archivist, 66 (Spring/Summer), 79-95.

• Lafferty-Hancock, F. (2007). Public Records and Archives New Zealand. In A. Fields & R. Young (Eds.) Informing New Zealand: Libraries, Archives and Records (5th ed., pp.187-201). Lower Hutt, New Zealand: The Open Polytechnic of New Zealand.

• Lester, P. (2006). Is the virtual exhibition the natural successor to the physical? Journal of the Society of Archivists, 27 (1), 85-101.

• Marty, P. & Twidale, M. (2004, September 6). Lost in gallery space: A conceptual framework for analyzing the usability flaws of museum Web sites. First Monday, 9 (9). Retrieved from http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/rt/printerFriendly/1171/1091

• Passchendaele Casualty Forms (2011). Retrieved March 17, 2011, from http://www.archives.govt.nz/exhibitions/passchendaele/main

Bibliography

• In Flanders Fields (2011, March 18). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 23:06, March 21, 2011, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=In_Flanders_Fields&oldid=419523735

• School of Information Management. (2011). Module 3: Public Programming and Archival Exhibitions. Retrieved from http://blackboard.vuw.ac.nz/

'Red Ruffians': online archive of Aotearoa's anarchist and syndicalist past

‘Red Ruffians’ is an online archive of writings, pictures and other goodies on Aotearoa’s anarchist and syndicalist past. Such a tradition did (and does) exist, but records of it are fragmented across different websites, books or archives — making them hard to find and accessible to only those in the know. The role of this site is to compile these fragments into one easily accessible location.

Why anarchism and syndicalism? And why care about the past?
Firstly, history is not static — the lessons from the past inform and influence both the present and future struggle:

“This type of historical awareness is a key reminder that we still live in a society deeply divided by class. The actions of the past stand as inspiring, yet unfinished movements to continue to build upon and to adapt to present conditions.” (Nicholas Lampert, Realising the Impossible).

Secondly, such narratives are important because those in power would have us believe that revolutionary currents in Aotearoa were either misdirected, without influence, or simply didn’t exist. The examples here go some way in debunking such notions.

Finally, it is important to acknowledge those who have held firm in their beliefs and struggled for a more humane and just society, “those spectral, semi-mythical figures whose humor, iconoclasm, commitment to working-class culture and dedication to democratic principles can still provide inspiration for actions in the present and hopes for the future” (Mark Derby, A Country Considered to be Free). Not just those mentioned in writing, but the nameless yet equally important women and men whose actions deserve to be remembered.

“Traditionally, labour history has tended to deal almost exclusively with the development of trade unions, implying that the workers had no history but that of the unions.” (Jeremy Brecher, Strike!). By focussing on anarchism and syndicalism, this site aims to highlight historical narratives that have gone beyond such a narrow scope.

It is important to remember that while Aotearoa is the focus, the ideas of anarchism and syndicalism and those who adhered to them were internationalist in scope — often transient by nature and committed to solidarity that transcended nation states. The site is here to link Aotearoa to that wider, transnational movement, rather than promote Aotearoa in a nationalist sense.

If you would like to contribute an article or know of something that should be on here, please contact garage.collective [at] gmail [dot] com. Content is always being uploaded, so be sure to bookmark the site.

Red Ruffians: http://redruffians.tumblr.com/

Gerd Arntz book out now

Have a peek here: http://issuu.com/ontwerpwerk/docs/gerdarntz_preview

As a politically engaged graphic artist and designer Gerd Arntz (1900-1988) portrayed the world in wood and linoleum cuts. During the 1920s, he conveyed his vision on social wrongs and the rise of Nazism in Germany in his prints. He did this in such a simple, direct style that anyone - regardless of their education and nationality - was able to understand his images. This prompted the Viennese social scientist Otto Neurath (1882-1945) to ask him to design the symbols for the ’International system Of Typographic Picture Education’ (ISOTYPE). During his long career, Arntz made more than 4000 coherent, powerful and legible symbols and figures. We still see their traces around us on a daily basis: in pictograms featured on objects ranging from traffic signs to gameboys, and in information graphics.

This book displays many Isotypes and explains the system and its context. This overview of Gerd Arntz’s life and work includes a selection of his political prints and other rare visual material that was never published previously. With contributions from Flip Bool, Gert Dumbar, Mieke Gerritzen, Nigel Holmes, Max Kisman, Paul Mijksenaar and Erik Spiekermann.

Previous blog posts on Arntz here:
— Art as a Weapon
— The Radical Design of Gerd Arntz
—

'A little packet containing the ashes of Joe Hill...'

Over the last year or two I've been researching what happened to the ashes of Joe Hill — IWW organiser, poet and songwriter — in New Zealand. According to most sources:

“Joe Hill’s ashes were placed in many small envelopes. These were sent to IWW members and sympathizers in all forty-eight states of the United States except one, the State of Utah… and to every country in South America, to Europe, to Asia, to Australia, to New Zealand and to South Africa. With fitting ceremonies and the singing on his songs, on May 1st, 1916, the ashes of Joe Hill were scattered over the earth in these many countries.”

Yet nothing is known about what happened to the ashes of Joe Hill in New Zealand. Were Hill’s ashes really sent here? Or was New Zealand simply listed to give such a symbolic act more scope? If they did make it, what happened to them? I've been pondering this question for a while now, and it's satisfying to feel my research has gone some way in answering this. It also questions the May Day 1916 date accepted for so long as the date his ashes were released. But you'll have to wait for my finished essay to find out more! It's in draft format and undergoing peer review as we speak... so hopefully soon.

In the meantime, here's images of the actual packet that contained the ashes of Joe Hill and the letter that went with it, courtesy of the Labadie Collection. Julie Herrada at Labadie has been a fantastic help, scanning the images, trawling newspapers, and fielding a number of my requests. The collection is fascinating in itself, recognised as one of the world's most complete collections of materials documenting anarchism in both the USA and around the world.

Poster: General Strike in Greece

"They hold the scissors, we hold the rock", poster from the recent General Strike in Greece.

CELEBRATE PEOPLE'S HISTORY: The Poster Book of Resistance and Revolution

From Josh at Justseeds: "The culmination of 12 years of work, this is a massive collection of all of the Celebrate People's History posters, the 65 that have been printed, and another 45 brand new designs that have yet to be printed yet except for in this book! I've also written a history of the project, and there is a great introduction by Rebecca Solnit."

This book is simply amazing. The visuals alone are worth the look, yet each poster contains a part of our past not often celebrated. Anyone who has seen a CPH poster or one of their shows will definitely like this book.

I was lucky enough to have my poster on the New Zealand Federation of Labor (the 'Red Feds') featured in the book, which makes it even more special (to me at least).

You can order it online at www.justseeds.org

time for change: help build a collective action network in Christchurch

We live in troubled times

We are overworked and under-payed — we have the second highest rate of average hours worked in the developed world, while two-thirds of kiwis earn less than two-thirds of the average wage. Work dominates our lives and clouds our free time. Many of us, both in and out of work, are isolated and without support. Our isolation makes it easy for the boss, the landlord or the red tape of institutions (such as WINZ) to push us around, short change us and offer nothing more than the bottom line.

Unemployment is on the rise while our benefits are slashed, our working conditions are under attack, our neighborhoods knocked down and replaced in the name of ‘development’.

Yet it doesn’t have to be like this

Together we have the power to make change, to support each other, and to wind back the ongoing attacks we face. To do this we need to stand shoulder to shoulder whenever and wherever someone is in need. Through the power of numbers, collective action and solidarity, we can start to enjoy what is rightfully ours and fight for a better world.

A network of people that supports each other, a network where help is just a text or email away, a network that gets things done — at work or in our wider communities — is the kind of network we’d like to see in Christchurch.

This network could span across different communities and different workplaces (regardless of whether we are in unions or not). Such a network could support each other to fight for better wages and working conditions, to win workplace struggles by generating community, solidarity and publicity, and support those of us out who are out of work and in the firing line.

Likewise, when our neighborhoods are scarred by greedy developers, our rents raised and living conditions worsened, we will have the means to fight back together rather than on our own.

Such a network makes it harder for us to be attacked, to be walked over, to be treated like nothing but numbers.

A day-long get together is taking place on September 25th to form a network in Christchurch, and we invite you to take part.

WHERE: WEA (Workers Educational Association). 59 Gloucester St, Christchurch
WHEN: September 25th, 9.30AM — 4.30PM
WHAT: Discussions // workshops // video // lunch

A draft agenda will be announced soon. This event is child friendly and lunch will be provided. If you have any questions at all, please contact: otautahianarchists (at) gmail.com.

Your input is most welcome, and we hope to see you there for what should be an inspiring and important day.

Protest this Sunday! Stop the Ant-worker Laws!

A protest against National's Anti-Worker Laws will be taking place this Sunday 8th August at 12 noon, on the corner of Colombo St and Hereford St.

Home to fast food outlets, retail stores and hotels (industries which house staff that are most at risk from the proposed legislation) we plan to bring a lot of noise and enthusiasm to the event, with stories from the workers themselves and reactions from various officials and commentators.

Bring a friend, a banner and some noise!

There will also be a Public Meeting on Thursday 12th August at the WEA (7PM). There are four speakers who will be sharing knowledge about the law changes, how they've already effected workers (22% percent of all workers fired since it was introduced were fired in the first 90 days), and possible ways to resist them. Jointly organised by the Workers Party and Beyond Resistance: it should be quite good.

WHAT ARE THE CHANGES? Info about the law changes are here.

xmas woodcut

My first two-colour woodcut attempt. Need to suss a few things still, and the type is pretty boring, but it was fun.

Beyond Representation: tactics for building a culture of resistance in Aotearoa

“Power keeps hacking away at the weeds, but it can’t pull out the roots without threatening itself.”
— Eduardo Galeano

We live in troubled times. The National Government has set in motion a number of attacks on the working class: prisons open while schools close, there’s been cuts to education and ACC support for victims of sexual abuse, a draconian search and surveillance bill proposed, plans to mine conservation land, GST hikes, and changes to the benefit that would extend the patriarchal hand of the state even more. But let’s not kid ourselves into thinking a Labour Government (or a Green one) would be any better — government, under whatever facade, is still the rule of the few over the many.

Capitalism, hand-in-hand with the state once again finds itself in an economic situation that hits those already feeling the effects of a bankrupt system. In Aotearoa (and across the globe) we are witnessing wage freezes coupled with rising prices. Companies close or move offshore, resulting in workers losing their jobs — our livelihoods are destroyed in their never-ending scramble for profit. We unwillingly pay for a crisis not of our doing.

The responses to these attacks have not challenged the state in any meaningful way. Protest activity, while at times large in number has been small in results. Trade unions have failed dismally in resisting the wind back of workers’ gains, completely lacking in both radical ideology and effective activity. Politicians — well they’re part of the problem and will never offer any kind of solution that would threaten their positions of privilege.

Unfortunately, the overwhelming answer for many is to give up their power to that of a representative (politician, community bureaucrat or union official) who will supposedly act on our behalf. We are encouraged to believe that we are powerless to effect any real change in our lives, and political structures are designed to reinforce this. Yet as long as a minority make decisions on our behalf we cannot be free. The sense of community, solidarity, and collective action needed for meaningful change is diffused through structures that privilege a debasing of power (giving our power to somebody else).

Challenging this trend towards the delegation of activity to others is no easy feat, yet it’s one way to move from current defensive action and onto the offensive. Structures and tactics that empower, employ direct action and offer revolutionary alternatives to capitalism and the state are needed more than ever. The time has come for real resistance, for the building of a movement that will effect actual change. This is nothing new. Nor are we the first to point this out. Establishing solidarity and gaining real power through struggle will enable us to break with a culture of dependency and the existing order: this is the pressing task ahead.


“You can’t destroy a society by using the organs which are there to preserve it… any class who wants to liberate itself must create its own organs.”
— H. Lagardell

Recent protest action has been merely symbolic and sporadic. We turn up, feel disillusioned, and go home. Politicians then get kudos and claim ‘grassroots’ bragging rights. Nothing changes. There are next to no organisational links being made, analysis of the root causes of the issues we protest against are not being heard, and there’s not much relevant follow-up action. These protests, if they do draw people along, are limited to the usual lobbying of government and illustrate quite plainly the passivity that is symptomatic of a culture of representation.

This same ineffectuality carries through to trade union structures. While there are many sincere and militant members in these unions, a union’s hierarchical and bureaucratic nature limits their scope. It should be clear to all by now that any chance of using the existing unions as tools of social change is, well, kaput — due to their mediating position within capitalism, their conciliatory rather than confrontational stance, and their limitation to trade or workplace.

The last century has been full of failed attempts to reform trade unions. Any reform attempt that seriously threatens the union’s role as ‘social partners’ to management would require a significant upsurge in militancy from the membership. This upsurge would naturally have to come about through actual class struggle, so it seems odd to focus on making an existing union ‘more radical’ when the struggle needed to make it more radical would be enough on its own. This approach equates working class action with trade union action. Yes, lets work with those in unions who share a critique of them and win members to our ideas, but our orientation should be towards actual working class conflict, not one particular form that conflict can take (ie the traditional trade union form). To become absorbed in current unions and their hierarchy destroys militancy and meaningful action.

Furthermore, current unions cause divisions between different groups of workers (non-members/ members of other unions) in the same workplace, trade or industry who share the same interests, acting as a barrier to common class action. A focus on current unions in Aotearoa also neglects their low membership — it also ignores sites of struggle outside of the traditional union’s scope such as unpaid work in the home and community, fights by the unemployed, possible rent strikes etc.

We must take note and move on from the failed forms of the past and look to foster effective struggle — to build dual power and a culture of resistance.


“We carry a new world here, in our hearts. That world is growing this minute.”
— Buenaventura Durruti

What do we mean by dual power, and how can we build it? Dual power can be understood as a way of practicing anarchist methods of organisation in order to grow a culture of resistance. It means encouraging direct control of struggle by those in struggle, the practice of non-hierarchical workplace and community assemblies, and collective decision-making based on direct democracy. It’s a way of challenging the power of boss, landlord and government until such time we can abolish them. Building dual power challenges authoritarian structures of power and at the same time, points towards the libertarian future we envision. It not only opposes the state, it also prepares for the difficult confrontations and questions that will arise in a revolutionary situation.

Dual power has to come about through struggle, through ongoing organising around real (not perceived) needs, and through direct action. Running a collective for food distribution or a radical bookshop, while having its own value, does not really confront wider social relations — this is collectively managing a resource, not the building of dual power. Dual power is not prefigurative in the sense that it is building counter institutions that will magically grow within capitalism and replace it once it’s gone. Dual power is prefigurative in terms of the means we use now, the way we organise our struggles, and the way we relate to others during that struggle. Building dual power points to a possible, but not predetermined future.

Dual power can’t be built in isolation or by traditional structures such as trade unions or political parties, as such structures are not set up to encourage such a sharing of power (as we pointed out above). This is where some kind of network that would span across union lines and workplace isolation — and link to the wider community — could play a significant role.


“History always repeats itself: first time as tragedy, second time as farce.”
— Karl Marx

Revisiting successful aspects of the anarcho-syndicalist tradition and its tactics of revolutionary struggle (within and outside of the workplace) is something that could potentially move beyond representation and build the culture of resistance described above. By coming together in one network based on direct action, solidarity and the ideas of anarchism, we could offer a very real alternative to both reformist action and the capitalist system itself. It could do what the current unions can’t or won’t do.

We don’t buy the argument that what’s needed is a similar network but without the explicitly anarchist position. Membership is not the goal of a successful network, meaningful struggle with a radical vision is. The focus would be to build class conflict, not the building of a union. To fetishise union membership over radical content has failed time and time again — an effective network should focus on class struggle rather than recruiting as many people as possible. A network of 20 people who manage to foster the growth of radical assemblies wherever they are (workplace or community) would have a larger effect than a network of 200 without any confrontational vision or strategy.

Likewise, a network that waters down its politics to a perceived level of resistance acceptable to people ends up reducing the level of both. This is the problem with ‘pure syndicalism’ that would concentrate on economic demands (wages etc) without an anarchist analysis of political structures that enforce wage slavery. It is absurd to say that someone who could be concerned with the money they receive would not also be concerned with why that money exists and how it is shared around. It’s also absurd to assume people don’t question the fact they have to work for a wage all their life. We need to move beyond pure economics and question the political nature of work itself.


“An organization must always remember that its objective is not getting people to listen to speeches by experts, but getting them to speak for themselves.”
— Guy Debord

Instead, the role of those of us in a network would be to put forward explicitly anarchist ideas and call for open assemblies in our workplace or community struggles. We would argue for direct control of these struggles by the mass assembly itself (not by any union or representative, including our own network). This means wherever we are based we should try to get together with our workmates and neighbours to collectively discuss our problems, regardless of whether they are in the network or not. Anyone who is affected by a particular issue should be included and involved, regardless of their union membership, place of employment, gender, race or age. The key is the self-activity of all of those concerned, to widen the fight and encourage a state of permanent dialogue.

By promoting direct action and solidarity, putting across anarchist ideas and offering practical examples of those ideas in practice, we would hopefully start to build a culture of resistance. This is vastly different to the current representative unions or community boards, whose unaccountable officials take it on themselves to control the fight and steer it along an acceptable path. By practicing and promoting mass meetings in times of struggle, we plant the seeds of ongoing, relevant forms of resistance which empower all of those effected — not just network members, but those who aren’t members of the network and who may never want to be.

A network could also offer important solidarity to those who are isolated (such as sub-contractors, temps, causal workers, the unemployed and those at home) and help build a sense of community. It could act as an important source of skill sharing and education — doing all the useful things the current unions do (acting as source of advice, sharing knowledge on labour law, foster solidarity etc) while critiquing their legalist and bureaucratic frameworks. Advice on employment law, community law, bullying at work, health and safety, WINZ and benefit changes — these are all important needs that a network could meet.

However it’s not our job as anarchists to resolve the problems of capitalism, but to keep alive the differences between the exploited and the exploiter, to build a culture of resistance. Our skill sharing and advice must be geared towards this vision. While we should offer practical support we can’t lose sight of our anarchist critique of the current system and our ultimate aim of social revolution: the network is not a help line that simply privileges outsider expertise, but is a fighting organization aimed at empowering those in need and encouraging radical self-activity.

If the activity of such a network related to real needs, was structured so that it involved the wider community in meeting those needs, and illustrated anarchist ideas in practice, it would show that anarchism is relevant to everyday life more effectively than a flyer, discussion group or theoretical journal ever could.


“The self-emancipation of the working class is the breakdown of capitalism”
— Anton Pannekoek

Historically we are currently in a low period of radical struggle, partly because of the culture of representation described above. But radical struggle doesn't pick up by magic, by the right mix of historical context. Struggle picks up through struggle, through the self-activity of the working class. The economic breakdown of capitalism doesn’t equate to radical change: just because we’re experiencing an economic downturn doesn’t mean the social revolution is on our doorstep. Nor does capitalism follow a pre-determined tune that allows us to sit back and wait for it to play out. Capitalism has the ability to adapt and even profit from such downturns. As the quote above illustrates (and history proves), the self-activity of those in struggle is paramount to moving beyond a capitalist ‘crisis’ to social revolution. A network and its activity could aid in this upswing of struggle.

A revolutionary network premised on the ideas and tactics described above is what Beyond Resistance aims to help create in the near future. We call for and encourage discussion about these ideas and tactics — if you agree or disagree then let’s get talking. An email list has been set up for this very purpose: discussionbeyondresistance-subscribe (at) lists.riseup.net We hope to start regionally, but we invite all those in Aotearoa interested in such a network and its formation to participate in a hui tentatively organised for September 2010. Any input and knowledge is welcomed. Let us move forward together in the fight against this inhumane, patriarchal and exploitative system and start to build a culture of resistance in Aotearoa. — JUNE 2010. beyondresistance.wordpress.com

Examples and further reading:

Solidarity Federation
Anarchist Workers Network
Seattle Solidarity Network
Strategy and Struggle: anarcho-syndicalism in the 21st century
Anarcho-syndicalism in Puerto Real
To Work or Not to Work: Is that the Question?
Winning the Class War: an anarcho-syndicalist strategy

'Art as a Weapon: Frans Seiwert and the Cologne Progressives' by Martyn Everett

Art has a long history of use as a propaganda weapon by the powerful, who have patronised particular forms of art and particular artists as a means of enhancing or glorifying their own position. The icon-like portraits of Queen Elizabeth I provide an obvious example, as artists were forbidden to paint other than an officially approved likeness. More recently, the harnessing of art to commodity production - to sell products and create a particular, favourable image of the multi-national corporation is a phenomenon we are all familiar with. Occasionally, however, attempts have been made to transform art into a political weapon; to use it as a means of overthrowing a cruel and unjust social system.

In order to achieve this, artists have had to periodically rethink the whole nature and language of art so that they could challenge the state and the dominant cultural values that underpin both state and economy. This is why new cultural avant-gardes have frequently been linked to anarchism or socialism, their radical politics informing their radical artistic stance. The post-Impressionists and the Surrealists provide ready examples. Attempts to construct a politically engaged art have usually been most successful during times of political ferment, when the culture of the ruling class is already under siege, as during the post First World War Weimar Republic (1918-1933) when Germany was deeply divided and torn by armed conflict.

Art historians have tended to focus mainly on the Expressionist movement and Dada during this period, overlooking the work of the political constructivists, the `Cologne Progressives', a movement which grew out of Expressionism and Dada, and was a contemporary of both. As with Expressionism and Dada the Cologne Progressives were heavily influenced by anarchism, and many of the political constructivists contributed to a range of anarchist and socialist publications.

The Cologne Progressives were a loose grouping of artists initially centred on Cologne and Dusseldorf, which for the last years of its existence produced the radical art magazine A bis Z (1929-1933). Its aims and ideals were, however, shared by artists from elsewhere, and the group eventually included members in Prague, Moscow, Vienna, Amsterdam and Paris. The members of the Progressives all saw their primary purpose as developing visual weapons for the political and social struggle of an oppressed working class against the rich and powerful. They sought to express complex political ideas in simple visual terms, exposing not the nature of the capitalist system, but its causes, and suggesting revolutionary solutions.

Frans Seiwert, Heinrich Hoerle and Gerd Arntz, the principle members of this group were barely in their twenties when the war came to an end, and although they had already taken part in the anti-war movement, their period of major creativity only began with the Weimar years. They were among the most radical of the politically active artists of the time, identifying principally with the council communist organisation the Allgemeine Arbeiter Union, although they also had connections with the anarcho-syndicalist FAUD. They were also active contributors to the journal Die Aktion, edited by the anarchist Franz Pfemfert, for which they provided title-page ~illustratiions, and articles. Their artistic influence lay in Expressionism and in the early religious art of their area. As Gerd Arntz subsequently wrote about Seiwert:

He was very strong in his primitivism as the early Christians (ie Rhenish Primitives). We all came from the old paintings and the early woodcuts. In fact Seiwert was originally a Catholic, who broke with the Church for its failure to condemn the horrors of World War I.

Although they displayed artistic links with the Dutch De Stijl, and with Russian Constructivism and Suprematism, the work of the Progressives differed from these movements in two ways; it was overtly political in its content, and it was almost exclusively representational and so retained an easy intelligibility - important because their art was not produced for the gallery, the art critic or other artists, but for ordinary people. The subject matter of their art, and the form in which it was executed was largely determined by their political beliefs. They also sought to break down the cultural exclusivity of art, by using an artistic language that could be easily understood, and which was widely disseminated in a form suited to the mass society created by capitalism. So they frequently utilised the woodcut or the linocut, which could be readily reproduced in the papers like Die Aktion and Der Ziegelbrenner.

The political constructivists were anxious to de-individualise art, and tended to concentrate in their work on groups and classes, and not on individual characters. Individuals are represented only to emphasise their powerlessness, or their subject position, concepts such as solidarity by grouping people together. Figures were schematised to the point where they became completely anonymous - as anonymous and de-individualised as capitalism made them. This transformation of form was just as important as the transformation of content. Seiwert, who was the main theoretician of the Progressives, wanted to create a new art of the working class which would not just come from putting a proletarian prefix to bourgeois styles. Consequently the Progressives were determined to develop a new style which involved a rejection of gallery art:

If one correctly conceives labour as the maintenance of life of the individual and of the whole, then art is nothing other than the visualisation of the organisation of labour and of life. Panel painting, which was created not accidentally, but from an inner necessity coinciding with the rise of modern Capitalism, becomes inconceivable. Anyway, an individual work of art as confirmation of an egocentric type of person on the one hand, and, on the other, in the hands of its owner, as confirmation of his title as possessor, will no longer be possible. (Seiwert A bis Z 1932)

Rejection of panel, or easel painting, was also clearly seen in Seiwert's response to Kokoschka. During street-fighting in Dresden during the right-wing Kapp Putsch, a shot fired by defending workers damaged Rubens' painting Bathsheba. Ignoring the casualties (35 were killed and 151 wounded in the fighting) Kokoschka distributed a leaflet to defend the Rubens, beseeching the workers to fight elsewhere, because `the saving of such elevating works of art was in the end much greater than any political action'. Seiwert's response was immediate. Rubens' art had long been dead, he wrote, `For a few hundred years we have had enormous holes in gigantic frames'. Such art paralysed the will of the present generation: `it weighs heavily on us and prevents us from acting'.

Seiwert's involvement with a number of anti-war groups during World War 1 was crucial in determining the later development of the Progressives. Franz Pfemfert, the editor of Die Aktion had achieved a remarkable fusion of art and politics in his determination to create a mass-circulation anti-war paper, and this combination was carried across into the work of the Progressives, who saw little difference between their art and their political activity. Indeed, the political trajectory of the Progressives paralleled that of Pfemfert and Die Aktion, as he moved from anarchism to council communism. Hoerle and Seiwert continued to contribute to Die Aktion up until their deaths.

Seiwert and Hoerle were close friends of Ret Marut, the editor of Der Ziegelbrenner, the fiery, clandestine anarchist magazine and some of Seiwert's first published graphics appeared in Der Ziegelbrenner.

Marut had been an active participant in the Munich `soviet' of 1919, and had narrowly escaped the firing squad after the soviet's collapse. While he was in hiding from the counter-revolutionary death squads, Seiwert and several of the other `Progressives' notably Hoerle, Freundlich and Hans Schmitz, helped with the production and distribution of the paper. Marut fled Germany for Mexico, where he became famous as the writer B. Traven. In order to protect his real identity he severed nearly all his contacts, the sole exception being Seiwert. Apart from the illustrations for Der Ziegelbrenner, Seiwert also drew a sketch of Marut, and painted his portrait.

Seiwert's contribution to the socialist and anarchist press also included many articles about the social role of art, commentary on the events of the time, and on anarchist themes, notably on the differences between authoritarian and anti-authoritarian communism, identifying himself with the latter. He also wrote an article on the anarchist writer Erich Muhsam, and with the French author Tristan Remy co-authored Erich Muhsam: Choix de Poesie (Lyon, 1924) which included an essay by him entitled Erich Muhsam: the militant.

Seiwert's most significant achievement was to co-edit, with fellow-artist Hoerle and Walter Stern thirty issues of the paper A bis Z, between October 1929 and January 1933. The first issue featured the work of fellow Progressives on the cover: a painting by Hoerle, another / by the Polish artist Jankel Adler, who later fled to Britain, and became involved with the group around War Commentary / Freedom, a connection for which the British government refused his application for citizenship. A sculpture by Otto Freundlich was also illustrated.

Freundlich had been connected with Seiwert since 1918 when they were both involved in working with the circle around Die Aktion: They had subsequently participated in the Congress of the Union of. Progressive International Artists held in Dusseldorf in May 1922. Members of the Berlin `Kommune' group, which included Freundlich, Raoul Hausmann, Adler, Stanislav Kubicki and Malgorzata Kubicka, launched a fierce attack in the plenary session against art dealers, and against some artists who had supported the War. Seiwert and Gert Wollheim (another artist with anarchist sympathies) supported the attack by the `Kommune' group. Freundlich's sculpture was singled out for criticism by the Nazis after they gained power and the catalogue for the Nazi exhibition of so-called `degenerate art' Entarte Kunst, featured one of Freundlich's sculptures on the catalogue cover. Freundlich himself died in a Nazi concentration camp during the war.

Each issue of A bis Z reproduced the artistic work of the Progressives, or introduced readers to the various traditions that had influenced them: religious art, cave paintings and so on. The example of Pfemfert's Die Aktion was not lost, and writings on the social role of art appeared alongside extracts from Bakunin's writings, short reviews of books written by Mfhsam and Alexander Berkman and articles on the theory of council communism. Raoul Hausmann, a pioneer of Berlin Dada in the magazine Die Freie Strasse, and an early exponent of photomontage, contributed articles on film and photomontage (Hausmann had previously contributed articles to the anarchist Die Erde and the Stirnerite Der Einzige) and the Hungarian Moholy-Nagy wrote about art and photography.

Artists who became identified with the `Progressives' through A bis Z included Auguste Herbin (Paris), Wladimir Krinski (Moscow), Peter Alma (Amsterdam), August Tschinkel (Prague) and the photographer August Sander (Cologne) whose work was regularly featured in the magazine, as well as Schmitz, Hoerle, Arntz and Freundlich. During its first year of existence A bis Z was distributed to contacts in Austria, Switzerland, Poland, Russia, Turkey, Holland, Belgium, France, USA, Mexico, India and Palestine.

The common factor uniting these artists was the way in which their art became an extension of their political activities. They were populist in their aims seeking to break down art's exclusiveness and develop new forms for art in order to facilitate communication of their ideas. They tried to develop a simple pictorial language which, they hoped, would be understood by the workers to whom their art was directed. This led some of the Progressives, like Gerd Arntz, an art teacher who became head of the Graphics Department of the Vienna Wirtschafts and Gesellschaftsmuseum to develop the Vienna method of pictorial statistics (isotypes) originally formulated by Otto Neurath. Arntz's art became almost diagrammatic and his work on isotypes involved him in the production of a pictorial atlas in collaboration with Tschinkel and Alma.

Rather than caricature the class enemy, Arntz and the Progessives attempted to visualize the social relationships which gave the ruling class their power. Arntz explained his work like this:

Grosz . . . draws the capitalist as an ugly and fat criminal. I did things differently. He can be good-looking, a decent family man with beautiful daughters ... I sought to show the position of the capitalist in the system of production - for that they need not be as ugly as Grosz made them.

and while Grosz showed the worker as a creature of misery, Arntz rejects this view:

We too show hits as miserable because he was a product of miserable circumstances. But with us he was also a revolutionary who tackled things. Our art was to make a contribution to tearing the old society apart. It was propaganda, it attempted to reveal social contrasts and show social opportunities, not just moralising criticism.

Arntz frequently split his pictures into various levels in order to contrast the superficial appearance of the social order with the way things really worked. So above ground the boss canoodles with a whore in a car while below the miners work and die. In Barracks (1927) while the soldiers parade in dress uniform, in the basement beneath them, a man is shot by a firing squad, his head depicted as a rifle-range target. Although Arntz divides some pictures in an obvious way, utilising a natural division between different floors in a building, the picture is sometimes broken in a more sophisticated way, by the beam of a searchlight, or the contrast between light and shadow.



The use of contrasting areas of solid blacks and whites was a feature of the work of many of the artists grouped around A bis Z, partly because the technique lent itself easily to printed reproduction, and the widespread dissemination of images, partly because the use of solid geometrical areas of black emphasised the feeling of oppression by the industrial system. They saw society as deeply divided, polarised into right and left wing camps, and the use of black and white gave visual expression to that social polarisation.

Hans Schmitz also utilised this contrast between black and white: the prison-like qualities of the factory are clearly expressed in Workers' Walk (1922). Its echoes of Van Gogh's La Ronde des Prisonniers reinforced by the heavy, oppressive dominance of the black walls.

Schmitz's studies were interrupted by his conscription into the army. With the revolution at the end of the War, he became a member of the Soldiers' Council in Cologne, and joined the Spartacus League, the left-wing break-away from the Social Democrats, led by Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht which subsequently formed the nucleus of the Communist Party. After resuming his studies in Dusseldorf, he met Seiwert, and helped with the distribution of Der Ziegelbrenner, beginning a period of close co-operation with the Progessives which continued until 1933. In 1922 he was a delegate at an anarchist Congress in Berlin. The Nazi rise to power resulted in a break in his work, and much of his output was destroyed during the air-raids of the Second World War.

His surviving linocuts depict the dehumanised nature of the industrial system, with a physical environment that dominates the individual, rendering the worker an extension of the machine.

Like the other Progessives Schmitz undertook solidarity work with the Communist International Workers Aid Committee, but as a rule the Progressives kept apart from the Communist Party, and the ASSO, the communist dominated Association of Revolutionary Artists. Seiwert explained the differences between them:

Just because its contents have a tendency to be 'proletarian', making statements about the struggle, solidarity, and class consciousness of the proletariat, bourgeois art has not by any means as yet become proletarian art. Form must be made subservient to content: content must recast form to become content. The work where this happens is created out of the collective consciousness where the self which creates a work is no longer bourgeois individualistic isolation, but a tool of the collective consciousness ... To maintain that when the content of a bourgeois art form makes a statement about proletarian problems this was proletarian art, seems to me a wholly Social-Democratic attitude, and in this context 'Social Democrats' includes those who are members of the Communist Party.

Seiwert then extends this critique into a more general attack on Communist methods:

It is exactly the same attitude which believes that the means of production, in the Capitalist sense, can be redirected from the control of those above to those below in a more far-reaching way than by the regulation of the means of production in a Communist society; the same attitude which believes in taking bourgeois technology from bourgeois industry and using it, in the hope that science developed in the service of the bourgeoisie can contain pure, independent, objective truth and, taken out of the hands of the bourgeoisie, can become science for the proletariat. Yes - science for the proletariat, so that it can remain the proletariat, but no means by which the proletariat can rise up and free itself.

A Communist society, and with it Communist culture, cannot be created by taking over the positions of Capitalist society and of bourgeois culture. Proletarian art exists when its form is the expression of the organisation of the feeling of solidarity, and of the class consciousness of the masses . . .

This statement, in spite of the terminology, encapsulates the anarchist rejection of authoritarian communist attempts to seize and use the state to direct a revolution, and reformulates it in terms of science, technology and culture.

In order to attack capitalist industrialism more effectively Seiwert resorted to a highly stylised representation, and the development of a simple pictorial language, which dialectically conceived, symbolised the opposing forces of capitalism and communism. A chimney, transmission belts, furnace, factory chimney and so on, stood for the inhuman aspects of industrialisation, whilst the sun, stars and trees have a positive value, pointing towards a better, socialist future. They can also have a negative significance, a crossed-out sun would strengthen the evil impression of the industrial scene. People are frequently depicted as being shaped or controlled by the system, and in many of Seiwert's linocuts a person's head is linked to the factory transmission belts to indicate that under capitalism the worker is only a part of the production process.

Sometimes Seiwert's work was directly in a more political tradition, such as his icon-like portraits of Karl Leibknecht, and the anarchist-socialist Gustav Landauer. Like Leibknecht, Landauer was murdered by reactionaries during the Revolution of 1918/19. Their portraits were among several of socialist martyrs produced in a small pamphlet Lebendige, by Peter Abelen, Anton Räderschneidt, Seiwert, and Angelika Hoerle, who died of tuberculosis when still only 24.

Seiwert also produced a remarkable linocut poster, commemorating the full horror of the execution of the Chicago anarchists in minimalist terms.

The rise of fascism, and the subsequent war destroyed the group, although Seiwert died early in 1933, of an X-ray burn sustained at the age of 7, and which he suffered from all his life. His death came just before the Nazis could destroy his work, and in all probability, the artist himself.

Seiwert and the Progressives tried to wrench art from its uneasy position as a commodity, and transform it into a weapon for communicating revolutionary ideas and ideals. In their attempt they have left us with an inspiring legacy of political images, a coherent, libertarian socialist theory of art, and a practical example of immense personal courage in the face of reaction.

Article from here.

The radical design of Gerd Arntz

Gerd Arntz (1900 – 1988) was a German Modernist artist and activist inspired by social and political issues. In his twenties, Arntz left his bourgeois roots to commit himself fully to the proletariat struggle, influenced by anarchism and council communism. His earlier works portrayed social inequities, exploitation and war in black & white woodcuts used on prints that was published in radical anarchist magazines in Germany and abroad. It was in these magazines that Otto Neurath, the spearhead of modern pictograms first discovered Arntz and recruited him to Vienna’s Museum of Society and Economy to further develop ISOTYPE. ISOTYPE, or the International System of Typographic Picture Education is a method of communicating complex information in a pictorial form. For Arntz, this form was well suited to conveying the causes of capitalism to an audience often alienated by most art.

LINKS:
Gerd Arntz Web Archive
Gerd Arntz on Wikipedia
Blog Posts

Celebrate People's History!

Justseeds and Beyond Resistance is proud to present 'Celebrate People's History', an exhibition of over 50 international posters documenting radical moments in history.

Since 1998 the Celebrate People's History Project has produced an amazing array of political posters by different artists from around the world, each highlighting a historical example of social struggle. Here in New Zealand for the first time is the complete series, celebrating important acts of resistance by both individuals and collective movements who have fought tirelessly for social justice. From the Spanish Revolution to feminist labour organisers, indigenous movements to environmental sustainability, protests against racism to the Korean Peasant's League — Celebrate People's History canvases global movements in collaboration with a global network of artists.

Visually the posters are as diverse as the topics themselves. Screenprint, woodcut, linocut, illustration, line art and traditional graphic design all feature in full colour — employed to engage in much needed critical reflection about aspects of our history often overlooked by mainstream narratives. A seamless welding of art and politics, Celebrate People's History is sure to excite the history junkie, poster enthusiast, art student and social activist alike.

Celebrate People's History
May 17 - 29, 2010

Opening Night
Monday May 17th at 5.30pm

Eastside Gallery at the Linwood Community Arts Centre
Corner Worcester Street and Stanmore Road
Christchurch

Contact:
otautahianarchists(at)gmail.com

Images can be made available for media/press by request, or preview some of the works here:
http://www.justseeds.org/subjects/celebrate_peoples_history_1/

Beyond Resistance
beyondresistance.wordpress.com

Type rest of the post here