Back in the early 2000s, artist Cindy Loehr made a free distributable artwork entitled Don’t Give Up, which was that phrase on a refrigerator magnet the size of a business card. These minimally-designed artifacts became ubiquitous among her growing circle of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, and she continually sought further distribution captains to act as nodes, signing on to give away the little reminder to as many as wanted it. Not surprising that many people took them, for in art, any association with ‘free’ tends to promote a run on things, witness posters flying when museumgoers figure out that Felix Gonzalez-Torres piles are takeable. The similarly-styled Edson Chagas Found Not Taken, Luanda. 2013, at MoMA’s recent Ocean of Images show, were photo-poster stacks nearly emptied to the pallets one recent Target© Free Friday evening. Less fortunate sheets were carelessly strewn about the floor of the gallery.
Don’t Give Up fits within this democratic tradition in art, a revaluation of the role of the individual viewer as co-owner of the multipliable artwork. Loehr’s phrase reads less like a command than either a support-group affirmation or a fridge-front nudge and might apply equally to young art world strivers and strugglers, or to anyone going through serious troubles. “Don’t give up” is an acknowledgment that there are sometimes reasons to, or at least to feel like you might and that sometimes people carry through with giving up, in one way or another.
The current political climate, for example, begs this question. Hardly anything has been more disheartening during the Obama era than those—primarily on the political left—who have given up on the process, who stomp or slide into apathy as though their disavowal would somehow help. Having agreed to be a Don’t Give Up distribution node myself, my current temptation is to send a magnet to each person who has for one reason or another disenfranchised themselves enough that they don’t vote, or turn up for an election only once every four years, as if somehow President Perfect might solve our conjoined future, without the necessary legislative support behind them.
How many who lean Left fail to vote in so many mid-term and crucial local elections? The numbers aren’t necessarily staggering, but they are staggeringly clear. In my reliably ‘blue’ state that consistently votes Left for President, the Wisconsin statehouse leans so far Right that it seems there’s no Left left, with our grand tradition of progressive politics upended. The terrifyingly apparent downticket result is that relatively few Democrat-leaning progressives make it to the city governments and legislative statehouses that would give them a suitable platform for their ideas, and experience necessary to move up through the political ranks to try for higher offices, including Congress, Governorships, and eventually the Presidency. People who proclaim to actually care about crafting a humane system that governs through economically just policies have simply given up on the process and ‘stayed home’ (such a seemingly comfortable, yet hauntingly ‘king-of-my-castle’ phrase) to let others dominate who are more in touch with the pragmatic side of their political fervor.
Who cares? It’s all corrupt, it’s all bankrupt, politics is so money-soaked that nothing can ever really change. They shut us out of that process a long time ago. The only solution is revolution!!
This line of thinking is all too real among those who consider themselves our most progressive advocates, particularly disaffected anarchist-leaning, collective-minded folks. Nevermind that revolution tends, more often than not, to result in much destruction and permanent damage, up to and including fascist retrenchment, or at least to make divides dig in and run much deeper. The goal of a revolution is to overturn, to destroy, rather than to remake or rebuild.
We can’t be surprised that the revolutionary impulse is in the American DNA since that’s how the country came into existence. But also recall that there was a second American revolution which had its seeds in the unsolved issues of the first one: Some 1.5 million of us killed and maimed each other, with the result that can best be described as ultimately just, but hardly a resolution.
Political apathy is molded by impatience, a signal problem when the system of governance requires checks and balances so thorough that all positions must be accounted for, all points of view allowed their moment. The key term is ‘incremental change,’ something our current president continues to believe in, despite that it has caused him corrosive political damage from both sides. Not surprising that the Right would want to “throw the bums out,” since the Bum-In-Chief represents everything they hate. More surprising is the abandonment of Obama by those on the Left who helped elect him, who then turned on him because he couldn’t immediately make their impossible dreams impossibly real. Though his popularity has risen steadily, their anger remains as support for Bernie Sanders and disavowal of a potential Clinton presidency. We can’t blame the opposition for countering Obama’s presidency since that’s their job, so the real fault lies with the give-ups who ‘stayed home’ while the makeup of the main legislative body of the US was being determined. In Wisconsin, this also meant state representatives, local councils and alderpersons, Senators, Congresspersons, and perhaps most important locally, State Supreme Court Justices (who in both Illinois and Wisconsin are elected officials).
This incredibly short-sighted stance could be called selfish but for the fact that it undermines every goal of those very selves who skip these elections. Fewer decent, civic-minded candidates are elected to office, to gain the experience and name recognition necessary to run for higher office, to actually make positive legislative change possible, and to better represent the actual political makeup of the country.
The country lurches and leans ever-further to the Right exactly because of such woeful decisions, made sharper in their irony because those on the opposite end of the political spectrum certainly do not stay home. They do exactly what we Left-righteous folk should be doing: organize, volunteer, support candidates, study up to back informed arguments over issues within personal networks, and make informed choices on voting day. Is it a Sisyphean task to affect real change through democratic government? Or is the task made Sisyphean by those who abandon their role in the process?
Jesse McLean’s 6-minute looping video Climbing succinctly reproduces mythic futility. The Apple-familiar “hand” cursor grabs and drags a screen of majestic mountain images, one glorious shot after the other, continuing seamlessly until the Photoshopping becomes too apparent to be overlooked. Mountains lapse from range to distant range, in a continuing cascade. The “hand” seems to be climbing, attempting to reach the end, the metaphorical ‘peak,’ triumph, conquest, but like this sentence, runs on, grasps and grasps at the unending stream of images with no resolution in sight. Not only a seamless contemporary rendering of the Sisyphean myth, but McLean’s piece also suggests other possibilities on a more optimistic side of things.
Jesse McLean, Climbing, 2009, Video still, Image courtesy of the artist.
Google Maps has no edge, no end to its unidirectional scroll, a 2D image of the perfect 3D spherical shape. The ‘endless scroll’ mode of certain websites like Who Wore It Better or LinkedIn can be maddening, as a never-ceasing population of potential contacts and new things to know must, eventually, transcribe every possible human or idea, if you had the wherewithal to endure. “End the Endless Scroll!” I cry, futilely. But back in the early days of video game consoles, I recall feeling the distinct pseudo-hacker’s joy at discovering that the Indy-car racing game on my Intellivision did not separate its various race courses into separate screens. If I zoomed off-road, I could zip around until eventually, I happened on an adjacent course. I loved it! I’d discovered the world outside my window, that my apparent limits were unbounded by the edges of the screen. McLean’s Climbing parallels Google Maps’ paradoxical endlessness, which flattens our sphere but dissolves its limits. A suggestion of transcendence arrives by breaking free of the globe’s limits, perpendicularly, breaching the atmosphere to achieve boundless space. (That space, of course, would be the actuality outside the computer screen, which, perpendicularly, is our own eyes.)
It’s no wonder, of course, that Obama has been dreaming of a Mars escape.
Not literally—not by himself—but that humankind’s future lies ultimately in space, leaving behind the world we’ve despoiled through war and abuse, replaced by the blank slate of an unblemished globe. In recent sci-fi movies, the risks of time dilation in Interstellar, or the harsh odds of The Martian must seem meager and thrilling compared to the Republican establishment’s intransigence on accepting that pollution causes, well, pollution, for example. The Martian, painstakingly realistic, demonstrates an equipoise necessary to achieve big, communal goals, each part contributing to the greater good. In this scenario the revolution would be to try again, somewhere else, in the kind of deadly-harsh environment where cooperation is essential, expertise is the only means, and dedication to the cause is crucial—a military discipline that doesn’t destroy but builds. Obama’s cooperative, “community organizer” background holds. He is a demonstrated believer in the power of incremental change, but one left bereft, hoping his legacy outlives those—even on his own side—who have disavowed him not for what he’s done but for what he hasn’t been able to get done. Historic intransigence by his ideological opponents + abandonment and apathy by his allies = massive disaffection all around. (No wonder he and Michelle are stumping so vocally for Hillary, who might help ensure their legacy.)
“Sunday Scene in Deadwood City” from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, September 8, 1877.
Once colonized, though, Mars would undoubtedly become a version of our forlorn, stupidly mythic Wild West, less that mirage, though, than the real deal, beset by the winner-take-all mentality of corporate enterprise and easy criminality. David Milch’s keen HBO series Deadwood (2004), was meant as a timely allegory, I believe, of the lessons to be learned by the Bush/Cheney administration’s dogmatic refusal of communitarian thinking, for us-versus-them ideological positioning. A semi-historical image of gold-boom South Dakota, Deadwood exposes individualism in American society as the vapid fallacy it is, a total illusion based essentially on greed. Necessary interdependencies are expertly drawn, in particular through the most corrupt character’s need for a lawman in town to keep just enough order for commerce to flow smoothly. The god of profit thrives on an orderly arrangement. Chaos only causes high overhead.
Had the truncated three-season series not burned out due to unfortunate contract disputes (the excellent, seditious Battlestar Galactica suffered a similar, anti-artistic fate at the hands of its network overlords), Deadwood would have gotten to its central point, glimpsed only in fits and starts as the anarchic “camp’s” nascent fire inspector made some rounds to try to get folks to apply basic standards. Of course, what we didn’t get to see is the entire wood-built town being burnt to the ground by unrestrained fire (as happened in the IRL version), destroyed because people believed that community regulations damage the ‘independent spirit’ that made them great, rather than understanding that simple methods of cooperation among co-interested parties better assure survival of the group. All would benefit, yet in the name of individuated liberty; all will lose all.
Our 20th and 21st-century winner-take-all societal ethos places our conjoined wealth in the hands of Bill Gates, Steve Jobs (r.i.p.), Warren Buffet, Sam Walton, and a couple of others and all we can do is hope they give some of it back. We all suffer for such intense concentration of wealth, akin to America’s ‘robber baron’ years, yet somehow the preponderance of us prefer this situation—or at least that’s what our political representatives would have us believe.
This combination of electoral forces has aligned to reflect us back to ourselves as someone else. Unsurprisingly then that we experience the unendurable election season as schizophrenic.
Were I able to seek Loehr’s permission, I’d scheme to hand out her Don’t Give Up magnets at polling places on November 8th. Obviously, if people are showing up to vote, they haven’t given up, but one power of a little affirmation is to spark a communicative confidence. It’s a thing you want to pass along, maybe by giving the magnet to the next person you encounter who says they don’t plan on voting. The powerful simplicity of Loehr’s piece is its pure generosity, not in the sense that she doesn’t get something for it—in the exchange, you make a small, tacit acknowledgment, Okay, I’ll try. It’s reassurance that we actually need each other to get along in the world. Loehr seemed to know deep in her heart how many people need her message, as a reminder of how important it can be to get simply through the day.
Measuring the relative value of Gonzalez-Torres’s giveaways gets difficult because of their intrinsic value-contradictions. People tend to grab the sheets as though in on the ground floor of the next big thing, a great stock tip, a collector’s item, a misprinted stamp. But they are not that. As single sheets, they have no material value. Their production continues in perpetuity. They are meant to have no material value, instead of transferring value to the immaterial, the image or idea they convey. They are like the weight of memory, insubstantial in the present, even unconveyable, but effectual. The “Untitled” (Veteran’s Day Sale) stack stands out for its multi-layeredness.
At once a critique of commodity culture, and a yearning for acknowledgment of sacrifice, this graphically simple work (the title words printed small and spaced out in the sheet’s center, black print on white) is also a funeral, a memorial, a territory of collective memory more expansive than Arlington National Cemetery, which itself lends sublime grace to the former estate of Robert E. Lee on which it lies, in perpetuity. Veteran’s Day Sale is a eulogy on the human tragedy of war, which is the result of the profound inability to agree on fundamental things, and the reduction of supposed détente to commercial exchange, as a salve—though from one perspective commercial exchange was the basis of the wound the war cleaved. Our government was designed for us to strike enough balance for us to live together within our disagreements. Its proper functioning demands participation, and apathy is its auto-immune disorder.
We citizens are like Gonzalez-Torres’s stacks, each a single sheet portraying value mainly for our function within the greater whole, sovereign in that we are markers of our own existence, but also represent an idea larger than ourselves.If I pass by a stack and don’t take one, I’m leaving it for someone else. Is voting like that?
Nicholas Frank is an artist, writer, and curator in Milwaukee. Frank successfully completed kindergarten at Samuel Clemens School, then ran the Hermetic Gallery from 1993-2001, co-founded the Milwaukee International art fairs in 2006, programmed INOVA from 2006-2011, helped redesign the Fine Arts curriculum at the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, where he currently teaches, and now runs The Open and the Nicholas Frank Public Library. His novella
The Sound of the Horn recently entered the collection of the Museum of Contemporary Art Antwerp. Frank is represented by The Green Gallery in Milwaukee and Western Exhibitions in Chicago, and shows with Nathalie Karg Gallery in New York. He will be in residence at Artpace in spring 2017. http://www.whatistheopen.org
View all articles by Nicholas Frank
Back in the early 2000s, artist Cindy Loehr made a free distributable artwork entitled Don’t Give Up, which was that phrase on a refrigerator magnet the size of a business card. These minimally-designed artifacts became ubiquitous among her growing circle of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, and she continually sought further distribution captains to act as nodes, signing on to give away the little reminder to as many as wanted it.1 Not surprising that many people took them, for in art, any association with ‘free’ tends to promote a run on things, witness posters flying when museumgoers figure out that Felix Gonzalez-Torres piles are takeable. The similarly-styled Edson Chagas Found Not Taken, Luanda. 2013, at MoMA’s recent Ocean of Images show, were photo-poster stacks nearly emptied to the pallets one recent Target© Free Friday evening. Less fortunate sheets were carelessly strewn about the floor of the gallery.2
Don’t Give Up fits within this democratic tradition in art, a revaluation of the role of the individual viewer as co-owner of the multipliable artwork. Loehr’s phrase reads less like a command than either a support-group affirmation or a fridge-front nudge and might apply equally to young art world strivers and strugglers, or to anyone going through serious troubles. “Don’t give up” is an acknowledgment that there are sometimes reasons to, or at least to feel like you might and that sometimes people carry through with giving up, in one way or another.3
The current political climate, for example, begs this question. Hardly anything has been more disheartening during the Obama era than those—primarily on the political left—who have given up on the process, who stomp or slide into apathy as though their disavowal would somehow help. Having agreed to be a Don’t Give Up distribution node myself, my current temptation is to send a magnet to each person who has for one reason or another disenfranchised themselves enough that they don’t vote, or turn up for an election only once every four years, as if somehow President Perfect might solve our conjoined future, without the necessary legislative support behind them.
How many who lean Left fail to vote in so many mid-term and crucial local elections?4 The numbers aren’t necessarily staggering, but they are staggeringly clear. In my reliably ‘blue’ state that consistently votes Left for President, the Wisconsin statehouse leans so far Right that it seems there’s no Left left, with our grand tradition of progressive politics upended. The terrifyingly apparent downticket result is that relatively few Democrat-leaning progressives make it to the city governments and legislative statehouses that would give them a suitable platform for their ideas, and experience necessary to move up through the political ranks to try for higher offices, including Congress, Governorships, and eventually the Presidency. People who proclaim to actually care about crafting a humane system that governs through economically just policies have simply given up on the process and ‘stayed home’ (such a seemingly comfortable, yet hauntingly ‘king-of-my-castle’ phrase) to let others dominate who are more in touch with the pragmatic side of their political fervor.5
Who cares? It’s all corrupt, it’s all bankrupt, politics is so money-soaked that nothing can ever really change. They shut us out of that process a long time ago. The only solution is revolution!!
This line of thinking is all too real among those who consider themselves our most progressive advocates, particularly disaffected anarchist-leaning, collective-minded folks. Nevermind that revolution tends, more often than not, to result in much destruction and permanent damage, up to and including fascist retrenchment, or at least to make divides dig in and run much deeper. The goal of a revolution is to overturn, to destroy, rather than to remake or rebuild.6
We can’t be surprised that the revolutionary impulse is in the American DNA since that’s how the country came into existence. But also recall that there was a second American revolution which had its seeds in the unsolved issues of the first one: Some 1.5 million of us killed and maimed each other, with the result that can best be described as ultimately just, but hardly a resolution.7
Political apathy is molded by impatience, a signal problem when the system of governance requires checks and balances so thorough that all positions must be accounted for, all points of view allowed their moment. The key term is ‘incremental change,’ something our current president continues to believe in, despite that it has caused him corrosive political damage from both sides. Not surprising that the Right would want to “throw the bums out,” since the Bum-In-Chief represents everything they hate. More surprising is the abandonment of Obama by those on the Left who helped elect him, who then turned on him because he couldn’t immediately make their impossible dreams impossibly real. Though his popularity has risen steadily, their anger remains as support for Bernie Sanders and disavowal of a potential Clinton presidency. We can’t blame the opposition for countering Obama’s presidency since that’s their job, so the real fault lies with the give-ups who ‘stayed home’ while the makeup of the main legislative body of the US was being determined.8 In Wisconsin, this also meant state representatives, local councils and alderpersons, Senators, Congresspersons, and perhaps most important locally, State Supreme Court Justices (who in both Illinois and Wisconsin are elected officials).
This incredibly short-sighted stance could be called selfish but for the fact that it undermines every goal of those very selves who skip these elections. Fewer decent, civic-minded candidates are elected to office, to gain the experience and name recognition necessary to run for higher office, to actually make positive legislative change possible, and to better represent the actual political makeup of the country.9
The country lurches and leans ever-further to the Right exactly because of such woeful decisions, made sharper in their irony because those on the opposite end of the political spectrum certainly do not stay home. They do exactly what we Left-righteous folk should be doing: organize, volunteer, support candidates, study up to back informed arguments over issues within personal networks, and make informed choices on voting day. Is it a Sisyphean task to affect real change through democratic government? Or is the task made Sisyphean by those who abandon their role in the process?
Jesse McLean’s 6-minute looping video Climbing succinctly reproduces mythic futility.10 The Apple-familiar “hand” cursor grabs and drags a screen of majestic mountain images, one glorious shot after the other, continuing seamlessly until the Photoshopping becomes too apparent to be overlooked. Mountains lapse from range to distant range, in a continuing cascade. The “hand” seems to be climbing, attempting to reach the end, the metaphorical ‘peak,’ triumph, conquest, but like this sentence, runs on, grasps and grasps at the unending stream of images with no resolution in sight. Not only a seamless contemporary rendering of the Sisyphean myth, but McLean’s piece also suggests other possibilities on a more optimistic side of things.
Jesse McLean, Climbing, 2009, Video still, Image courtesy of the artist.
Google Maps has no edge, no end to its unidirectional scroll, a 2D image of the perfect 3D spherical shape. The ‘endless scroll’ mode of certain websites like Who Wore It Better or LinkedIn can be maddening, as a never-ceasing population of potential contacts and new things to know must, eventually, transcribe every possible human or idea, if you had the wherewithal to endure. “End the Endless Scroll!” I cry, futilely. But back in the early days of video game consoles, I recall feeling the distinct pseudo-hacker’s joy at discovering that the Indy-car racing game on my Intellivision did not separate its various race courses into separate screens. If I zoomed off-road, I could zip around until eventually, I happened on an adjacent course. I loved it! I’d discovered the world outside my window, that my apparent limits were unbounded by the edges of the screen. McLean’s Climbing parallels Google Maps’ paradoxical endlessness, which flattens our sphere but dissolves its limits. A suggestion of transcendence arrives by breaking free of the globe’s limits, perpendicularly, breaching the atmosphere to achieve boundless space. (That space, of course, would be the actuality outside the computer screen, which, perpendicularly, is our own eyes.)
It’s no wonder, of course, that Obama has been dreaming of a Mars escape.
Not literally—not by himself—but that humankind’s future lies ultimately in space, leaving behind the world we’ve despoiled through war and abuse, replaced by the blank slate of an unblemished globe.11 In recent sci-fi movies, the risks of time dilation in Interstellar, or the harsh odds of The Martian must seem meager and thrilling compared to the Republican establishment’s intransigence on accepting that pollution causes, well, pollution, for example. The Martian, painstakingly realistic, demonstrates an equipoise necessary to achieve big, communal goals, each part contributing to the greater good. In this scenario the revolution would be to try again, somewhere else, in the kind of deadly-harsh environment where cooperation is essential, expertise is the only means, and dedication to the cause is crucial—a military discipline that doesn’t destroy but builds. Obama’s cooperative, “community organizer” background holds. He is a demonstrated believer in the power of incremental change, but one left bereft, hoping his legacy outlives those—even on his own side—who have disavowed him not for what he’s done but for what he hasn’t been able to get done. Historic intransigence by his ideological opponents + abandonment and apathy by his allies = massive disaffection all around.12 (No wonder he and Michelle are stumping so vocally for Hillary, who might help ensure their legacy.)
“Sunday Scene in Deadwood City” from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, September 8, 1877.
Once colonized, though, Mars would undoubtedly become a version of our forlorn, stupidly mythic Wild West, less that mirage, though, than the real deal, beset by the winner-take-all mentality of corporate enterprise and easy criminality. David Milch’s keen HBO series Deadwood (2004), was meant as a timely allegory, I believe, of the lessons to be learned by the Bush/Cheney administration’s dogmatic refusal of communitarian thinking, for us-versus-them ideological positioning. A semi-historical image of gold-boom South Dakota, Deadwood exposes individualism in American society as the vapid fallacy it is, a total illusion based essentially on greed. Necessary interdependencies are expertly drawn, in particular through the most corrupt character’s need for a lawman in town to keep just enough order for commerce to flow smoothly. The god of profit thrives on an orderly arrangement. Chaos only causes high overhead.
Had the truncated three-season series not burned out due to unfortunate contract disputes (the excellent, seditious Battlestar Galactica suffered a similar, anti-artistic fate at the hands of its network overlords), Deadwood would have gotten to its central point, glimpsed only in fits and starts as the anarchic “camp’s” nascent fire inspector made some rounds to try to get folks to apply basic standards.13 Of course, what we didn’t get to see is the entire wood-built town being burnt to the ground by unrestrained fire (as happened in the IRL version), destroyed because people believed that community regulations damage the ‘independent spirit’ that made them great, rather than understanding that simple methods of cooperation among co-interested parties better assure survival of the group. All would benefit, yet in the name of individuated liberty; all will lose all.
Our 20th and 21st-century winner-take-all societal ethos places our conjoined wealth in the hands of Bill Gates, Steve Jobs (r.i.p.), Warren Buffet, Sam Walton, and a couple of others and all we can do is hope they give some of it back. We all suffer for such intense concentration of wealth, akin to America’s ‘robber baron’ years, yet somehow the preponderance of us prefer this situation—or at least that’s what our political representatives would have us believe. 14
This combination of electoral forces has aligned to reflect us back to ourselves as someone else. Unsurprisingly then that we experience the unendurable election season as schizophrenic.
Were I able to seek Loehr’s permission, I’d scheme to hand out her Don’t Give Up magnets at polling places on November 8th. Obviously, if people are showing up to vote, they haven’t given up, but one power of a little affirmation is to spark a communicative confidence. It’s a thing you want to pass along, maybe by giving the magnet to the next person you encounter who says they don’t plan on voting. The powerful simplicity of Loehr’s piece is its pure generosity, not in the sense that she doesn’t get something for it—in the exchange, you make a small, tacit acknowledgment, Okay, I’ll try. It’s reassurance that we actually need each other to get along in the world. Loehr seemed to know deep in her heart how many people need her message, as a reminder of how important it can be to get simply through the day.
Measuring the relative value of Gonzalez-Torres’s giveaways gets difficult because of their intrinsic value-contradictions. People tend to grab the sheets as though in on the ground floor of the next big thing, a great stock tip, a collector’s item, a misprinted stamp. But they are not that. As single sheets, they have no material value. Their production continues in perpetuity. They are meant to have no material value, instead of transferring value to the immaterial, the image or idea they convey. They are like the weight of memory, insubstantial in the present, even unconveyable, but effectual. The “Untitled” (Veteran’s Day Sale) stack stands out for its multi-layeredness.15
At once a critique of commodity culture, and a yearning for acknowledgment of sacrifice, this graphically simple work (the title words printed small and spaced out in the sheet’s center, black print on white) is also a funeral, a memorial, a territory of collective memory more expansive than Arlington National Cemetery, which itself lends sublime grace to the former estate of Robert E. Lee on which it lies, in perpetuity. Veteran’s Day Sale is a eulogy on the human tragedy of war, which is the result of the profound inability to agree on fundamental things, and the reduction of supposed détente to commercial exchange, as a salve—though from one perspective commercial exchange was the basis of the wound the war cleaved. Our government was designed for us to strike enough balance for us to live together within our disagreements. Its proper functioning demands participation, and apathy is its auto-immune disorder.16
We citizens are like Gonzalez-Torres’s stacks, each a single sheet portraying value mainly for our function within the greater whole, sovereign in that we are markers of our own existence, but also represent an idea larger than ourselves.17If I pass by a stack and don’t take one, I’m leaving it for someone else. Is voting like that?18
However, there are some potentially disturbing resonances in the definition. ‘Civic-minded’ wins: of or relating to the duties or activities of people in relation to their town, city, or local area: they could not be denied access to education, the vote, and other civic rights. Also, it was suggested that gerrymandering is an equally important issue beyond voter apathy. While it is true that unrestricted gerrymandering can unduly alter the balance away from true representation of populations according to political leanings, I maintain that voter apathy is a root cause of the current gerrymandered situation. Analysts have noted that a rare confluence of the 10-year census with mid-term elections in Obama’s second term allowed such radical redistricting towards Republican-crafted districts that the effects, immediately felt, will likely last for a generation. But, if Left-leaning and sensible Independents had turned out in greater numbers during the mid-terms, our legislatures might not be so cram-packed with Righties after all, and thus less blatant gerrymandering might have been allowed to occur. Legislatures that don’t want to allow politically disinterested judicial branches or arbitration bodies won’t pass laws that make it possible to have fair voting districts. Another reason why people who think to vote once every four years somehow fulfills their democratic franchise are so frustrating and so wrong.