Under Construction Journal Issue 6.1 UNDER CONSTRUCTION JOURNAL 6.1 | Page 116

two – but in the unsatisfactory deterritorialized real of explicit ‘instructing’ him in sex without
reciprocity. That is mired in ideological fantasy, and concomitant jealousy.
We may ask what changes initially for Bobby based on the appearance of a recognition he claims
to desire. Now this change is readable in terms of something Utopian, the opening up of communicative
possibilities for a heterogeneous yet distinctive voice in art rooted in the structure of feeling of place,
an art which is vital and libidinal but also erudite. Yet ‘he[also] needs money’: the ‘working class’
aristocracy flounders if not over-keeled on the rocks of financial precarity 105 after the ‘Marxist
supernanny’ and gets suitably patronized, fetishized, commodified. Still, for all the framing of this
succumbing to the framing of the London art world as a compromise of the purity of sphere (his
contained utopia) and of Skeggsian autonomism , a giving into Realism and that appropriation 106 ,
Bobby’s imaginary 107 - the ideology of his set up - is contaminated by the chauvinism of the liberated
artist. This constitutes the underside of the sixties commune in its narcissism 108 , one which hasn’t
incorporated the political lessons of acid or autonomista 109 as self-critique or hauntological
estrangement. This is manifest at the level of uneven household labour, as well as the ghost of precarity,
despite his fidelity to Georgie, a situation which fame does not improve. We find this tension of false
nostalgia potentially contaminating Ellen’s own framing’ of herself as ( The Velvet Underground’s)
‘Nico’ 110 whilst caught in a cycle of Jobcentre compromises 111 and zombie pill- weekends, without
precluding the glimmer of the once and future utopian dimensions within the block’s literal and
105
In a way Bobby feels weird getting so over-the top about ‘fame; and ‘money’, but the way the world works you
do need pennies in your back pocket, and there’s no way he wants to die with this stupid world not knowing his
name (2010, 60)
106
There’s nothing Bent Lewis enjoys more than viewing art in a trendy squat o disused butcher’s shop or north
east tower block and he’s beside himself with glee (2010, 99)
107
He enjoys following a strange sixties idealism, which involves taking many psychedelics, listening to far-pot
music and spreading lots of love. He wants to be Jack Kerouac—or the more hardcore one, Neal Cassady (2010, 57)
108
He wonder what it’d be like to be famous —he’d rather see his face on Frieze magazine , mind you. Imagine
going to all those posh parties and sniffing all the free drugs. He dreams of getting a £ 1000- a -day coke habit. But
the opportunity seems so far away when you’re holed up on the fourth floor of some tower bloc no one’s even
heard of. Though if Jean-Michel Basquiat could come out of garbage cab with rubbish paintings and still get
famous, then so could he (2010, 13)
109
Or what Zizek (2007) terms the aridity of the hippie as well as the seductions of what might be termed neutral
accelerationism or just immature political subjectivity, only partially subjectivised at the beginning.
110
She imagines herself as a free spirit, always swanning round the walls of Peace house like it’s the Chelsea hotel
in the sixties and she’s Nico and she knows where all the parties are (2010, 27)
111
Ellen [ in the job centre] is waiting to get outside of this fucking zoo. They’re euphony creatures dole scum: man
and wife with zebra tattoo, girl with peacock hair and little baby joey, bloke in a suit probably not mad redundant
little teenage cheetahs cheating the dole with Ellen. She thinks people who work are mugs; the people on the dole
are mugs too (2010, 76)
107