The Unity of Monoculture
A shimmering greenhouse full of exotic plants. We find ourselves in a world of monocultures that stretch hundreds of kilometers across the fertile surface of the earth. Our little guide has lifted to eye level, and its subtle frequencies reveal excerpts from the events of the last sultry months. Monstera Deliciosa is infertile outside her habitat, although her wilting offset has now been replaced by a green leaf. It hides its new form in a water vortex. The trajectory of green plantations flooded our entire field of vision. The uniform composition of organic palms has become a technological product, and our human perspective has slowly disappeared in the idea of an unforgettable holiday.
One way to resist fascism is to live in its cracks like weeds in cracked asphalt. An even better way to escape surveillance is to stop being human at all and to become a bacteria that coexists with the roots of crop monocultures. The planting of monocultures is also a kind of fascism – the chauvinistic expulsion of everything disparate in order to create a grid, as clear as a militia gathering place. Who knows what thrives underneath it and supplies it with nutrients? Upon discovery, will I be exterminated with chemicals or will I be turned into a fertilizer additive?