Hyperballad and Hyperobjects

Morton’s use of the term ‘hyperobjects’ was inspired by Björk’s 1996 single ‘Hyperballad’
(Wikipedia)

Björk
by Timothy Morton

Björk and I think that there is a major cultural shift going on around the world towards something beyond cynical reason and nihilism, as more and more it becomes impossible not to have consideration for nonhumans in everything we do. Hopefully this piece we made contributes to that somehow.

I was so lucky to be doing this while she was mixing her album with some of the nicest and most incredible musicians/producers I’ve ever met…great examples of this shift beyond cynical reason…

Here is something I think is so so amazing, the Subtle Abuse mix of “Hyperballad.” Car parts, bottles, cutlery–all the objects, right? Not to mention Björk’s body “slamming against those rocks.” It’s a veritable Latour Litany… And the haunting repetition…

Dark Ecological Chocolate
by Timothy Morton

This being-an-object is intimately related with the Kantian beauty experience, wherein I find experiential evidence without metaphysical positing that at least one other being exists. The Sadness is the attunement of coexistence stripped of its conceptual content. Since the rigid anthropocentric standard of taste with its refined distances has collapsed, it becomes at this level impossible to rebuild the distinction we lost in The Ethereal between being interested or concerned with (this painting, this polar bear) and being fascinated by… Being interested means I am in charge. Being fascinated means that something else is. Beauty starts to show the subscenent wiring under the board.

Take Björk. Her song “Hyperballad” is a classic example of what I’m trying to talk about here. She shows you the wiring under board of an emotion, the way a straightforward feeling like I love you is obviously not straightforward at all, so don’t write a love song like that, write one that says you’re sitting on top of this cliff, and you’re dropping bits and pieces of the edge like car parts, bottles and cutlery, all kinds of not-you nonhuman prosthetic bits that we take to be extensions of our totally integrated up to date shiny religious holistic selves, and then you picture throwing yourself off, and what would you look like—to the you who’s watching you still on the edge of the cliff—as you fell, and when you hit the bottom would you be alive or dead, would you look awake or asleep, would your eyes be closed, or open?

When you experience beauty you experience evidence in your inner space that at least one thing that isn’t you exists. An evanescent footprint in your inner space—you don’t need to prove that things are real by hitting them or eating them. A nonviolent coexisting without coercion. There is an undecidability between two entities—me and not-me, the thing. Beauty is sad because it is ungraspable; there is an elegiac quality to it. When we grasp it withdraws, like putting my hand into water. Yet it appears.

Beauty is virtual: I am unable to tell whether the beauty resides in me or in the thing—it is as if it were in the thing, but impossible to pin down there. The subjunctive, floating “as if” virtual reality of beauty is a little queasy—the thing emits a tractor beam in whose vortex I find myself; I veer towards it. The aesthetic dimension says something true about causality in a modern age: I can’t tell for sure what the causes and effects are without resorting to illegal metaphysical moves.[14] Something slightly sinister is afoot—there is a basic entanglement such that I can’t tell who or what started it.

Beauty is the givenness of data. A thing impinges on me before I can contain it or use it or think it. It is as if I hear the thing breathing right next to me. From the standpoint of agricultural white patriarchy, something slightly “evil” is happening: something already has a grip on us, and this is demonic insofar as it is “from elsewhere.” This “saturated” demonic proximity is the essential ingredient of ecological being and ecological awareness, not some Nature over yonder.[15]

Interdependence, which is ecology, is sad and contingent. Because of interdependence, when I’m nice to a bunny rabbit I’m not being nice to bunny rabbit parasites. Amazing violence would be required to try to fit a form over everything all at once. If you try then you basically undermine the bunnies and everything else into components of a machine, replaceable components whose only important aspect is their existence