A few weeks ago I rewatched Network, a perpetually-timely film that centers around an inveterate newscaster named Howard Beale, who looses his shit when told he’s being taken off the air.  He launches into an on-air oratory that details how Americans have come to be defined by their desperate, numb, automotonic lives; their only comfort coming from the narcosis of TV fantasy.  His rant culminates in the catchphrase, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.”

Last night, I had three gentlemen, while not mad in the Bealean sense of the word, who are committed to not taking it anymore:

• Mitch Joachim, who’s posing essential questions and solutions about how to reimagine the urban planning/architectural shit-storm we’re living in today; a storm that is directly and profoundly contributing to the continued slaughter of our environment.

• Filip Noterdaeme, who’s Homeless Museum of Art begs (forgive the pun) museum powers-that-be–and those of us complicit to those powers–to question how their motivation to expand the edifice of the museum obfuscates the museum’s mission and alienates the artist and museum-goer alike.  Through producing HOMU, Noterdaeme both serves as an important countervailing voice to the corporatization of the arts, while being a generator of vital artistic expression in and of itself.

• Finally, Jeremy Kirk, who calls us to question our complicity with Empire–with the forces that kill, destroy and subjugate.  Last night, he asked us to look at the lens through which we see the world–how our privilege as Americans (and most of us are privileged regardless of whether we are American born), is often directly proportionate to others’ suffering.  He challenged us to begin divesting ourselves of our privilege (and don’t worry, you can start small), confident that the liberation from no longer being complicit with violence toward others is greater than the sundry and temporary liberations that privilege affords.

I don’t know if Lucid NYC is subversive per se, but it’s my humble way to create an alternative to the prevailing modalities of social interactions; providing a safe (and audible) environment for people to create conversations that scrutinize and evaluate our assumptions about the way things are and the way things could be; a place, to quote Beale, where people can say, “I’m a human being God dammit.  My life [and voice] has value.”

Thank you for all those who made it out to Brooklyn last night.  A special thanks to Mitch, Al and everyone else at Metropolitan Exchange for hosting.  Until next time, keep questioning, keep human.

David