Schoenberg said one day that he composed music so that people could no longer write music. I write so that people, and first of all those people who are entitled to speak, spokespersons, can no longer produce . . . noise that has all the appearances of music.
Pierre Bourdieu, 1980 interview with Loïc Wacquant
Do you ever notice as you write that no matter what there is on the written page, something appears to be in back of everything that is said, a little ghost? I judged that this ghost is there to remind us there is always more, an elsewhere, a hiddenness, a secondary form of speech, an eye blink…there is something more I do not say. Leave this little echo to haunt the poem. Do not give it form, but let it assume its own ghostlike shape.
The spirituality – I’ll risk the word – to which all aberration leads us, physical as well as mental (and the two are really one), is actually quite simple: live everyday life as an everyday thing, with and in the presence of special, specific human beings who are our disabled equals.
Henri-Jacques Stiker, A History of Disability, p. 11
Not amateurish culture, amateur culture.