When I think about the resistance of material things—those tactile objects giving shape and texture to physical reality—I think about how I bought a home in the forest on a small plot of land, where I put things into the earth so that it yields things in return. I think of how the invasive creep of weeds into my gardens resists my plucking and twisting; and how my chickens resist my caring hands when they’re sick or injured.
When I think about resistance, I also think about the way things give: how the soil gently parts with the stroke of a hoe or how my chicken sings a song that echoes off the mountains, announcing her gift of an egg.
Han warns us that the disappearance of things into oppressive landscapes of non-things erodes how we come to know one an(other) and ourselves. How might we use the relationships we forge on earth, and with earth, to reframe our digital spaces, building immaterial communities from reciprocity with the tangible: a seed poked into dirt and an egg shell folded into compost? (183) [JZ-08]
[Han, 2022]