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Núria Gómez Gabriel (1987) es escritora, investigadora cultural y comisaria de arte contemporáneo. Su práctica articula relaciones entre feminismo, espectralidad y paisajes afectivos del presente desde una mirada que combina pensamiento crítico y sensibilidad poética. Es autora de los ensayos Love Me Tinder (Temas de Hoy, 2019) y Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023). Ha escrito numerosos textos para catálogos de artistas, instituciones y plataformas culturales, contribuyendo a diversos contextos expositivos y editoriales, y ha publicado ficción breve, entre la que destaca un relato incluido en la antología Gótico Divino (Horror Vacui, 2025).

Nota biográfica

Núria Gómez Gabriel (1987) es escritora, investigadora cultural y comisaria de arte contemporáneo. Doctora en Comunicación por la Universidad Pompeu Fabra de Barcelona, obtuvo en 2023 el XXI Premio Extraordinario de Doctorado por su tesis Espectropolíticas. Imagen y hauntología en las prácticas artísticas contemporáneas (2021). Su práctica articula relaciones entre feminismo, espectralidad y paisajes afectivos del presente desde una mirada que combina pensamiento crítico y sensibilidad poética. Es docente en la Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona (Escola Massana); BAU, Centro Universitario de Artes y Diseño de Barcelona; y, en la Escuela Superior de Cine y Audiovisuales de Cataluña (ESCAC), donde imparte docencia en el Máster Universitario en Culturas Visuales, así como en Grados de Arte y Diseño, Bellas Artes y Diseño de Moda.

Es autora de los libros de ensayo Love Me Tinder (Temas de Hoy, 2019), Estudios raros (Hamaca, 2023) y Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023), y ha publicado ficción breve, entre la que destacan Verónica (Ajuntament de Barcelona, 2023) y un relato incluido en la antología de cuentos Gótico Divino (Horror Vacui, 2025). Ha escrito numerosos textos para catálogos de artistas, instituciones y plataformas culturales, y ha colaborado con medios como TEXTE ZUR KUNST, El País / S Moda, A*Desk Critical Thinking, Caja Negra Editorial, CCCBLAB Investigación e Innovación en Cultura, EXIT MEDIA, así como con revistas académicas como Teknokultura (Universidad Complutense de Madrid) y Contratexto (Universidad de Lima).

Su trabajo ha sido presentado y desarrollado en instituciones como el Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Barcelona (MACBA), Centro de Cultura Contemporánea de Barcelona (CCCB), La Casa Encendida, Hangar, Arts Santa Mònica, Fabra i Coats, TABAKALERA Centro Internacional de Cultura Contemporánea, Bòlit Centre d’Art Contemporani y CA2M Museo Centro de Arte Dos de Mayo, entre otras. Ha participado también en festivales como FEMTEK. Prácticas Artísticas Contemporáneas. Feminismos y Tecnología, Kosmopolis. Festival de Literatura Amplificada y LOOP Barcelona.

Ha formado parte de jurados de convocatorias y premios culturales como las Ayudas Injuve para la Creación Joven, Hamaca Video-t Investigación, Beca de Interactivos de Hangar, Residencias de Creación del Centro de Danza La Caldera, Premi Miquel Casablancas y Premi Art Nou Primera Visió. En 2021 recibió el premio INÉDITOS 2022 de La Casa Encendida por su propuesta curatorial LAS MALAS, y en 2023 obtuvo la Beca Barcelona Producció de La Capella de Barcelona con el proyecto expositivo Ángel Peligrosamente Búho [duelos, espectros y materialidad]. Actualmente trabaja en su primera novela por la cual es invitada a la Residencia Literaria Finestres y recibe la beca de creación literaria Montserrat Roig 2025.

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PRÓXIMAS ACTIVIDADES

En diálogo con Antonio Gómez Villar, presentamos la sesión Nuestro deseo no tiene nombre, nosotros tampoco. Políticas de desidentidad y conciencia subalterna, en el marco del ciclo Deseo poscapitalista. Deshacer el final: el curso que Fisher no impartió (21.01.2026–09.04.2026), comisariado por David Caño y Laure Vega en La Virreina Centre de la Imatge, y con la participación de Clara Serra, Amador Fernández-Savater, Joan Yago, Alberto Santamaría, Carolina Yuste, Marta Echaves, Alicia Valdés, Laura Llevadot, Santiago López-Petit y Marcelo Expósito.12 de febrero de 2026, 19 h · Espai 4 · La Virreina · Entrada libre · Aforo limitado · Link para más información

ENTREVISTAS Y RESEÑAS

«Los mejores ensayos de 2025: las votaciones de nuestros críticos». Mención del ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) entre los 10 ensayos más destacados por Germán Cano en El Cultural. 20 de diciembre 2025. Link

«Una plaga de polillas». Mención del ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Silvia Nanclares Escudero en el Público. 17 de agosto de 2024. Link

«’TRAUMACORE’ VS. ‘NO DESITJARÀS ELS BÉNS DEL PROÏSME’». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Itziar Feito y Carlos Acevedo en el blog de FINESTRES. 12 de julio de 2024. Link

«En nuestro taller, un tweet o un post de Instagram están en el mismo nivel literario que un poemario editado y publicado en papel». Entrevista por Clara Ferrer en ULTIMA HORA. 28 de junio de 2024. Link

«La disociación feminista sirve para pensar un viaje de ida y vuelta». Entrevista por Sara Plaza Serna en Pikara MAGAZINE. 22 de mayo de 2024. Link

«Núria Gómez Gabriel – Cicatrices hechas comunidad». Entrevista por Elsa Moreno en METAL MAGAZINE. 24 de abril de 2024. Link

«El retorno de la mujer monstruo». Mención de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Ingrid Guardiola en MERCURIO. 13 de abril de 2024. Link

«La urgencia femenina de no tomarte esa pastilla». Mención de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Noelia Ramírez en EL PAÍS. 19 de marzo de 2024. Link

«Núria Gómez Gabriel: «A las milenials nos educaron a partir del feminismo optimista del bienestar neoliberal»». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista por Berta Coll en Diari ARA. 19 de marzo de 2024. Link

«“Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista”, Núria Gómez Gabriel». Entrevista por Marc Giró y Noelia Ramírez en Vosté primer amb Marc Giró – Rac 1. 13 de marzo de 2024. Link

«Una ferida fastigosa”, Núria Gómez Gabriel». Review de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Laia Mauri Baraza en NÚVOL – Diari ARA. 21 de febrero de 2024. Link

«Disociadas». Entrevista por Begoña Gómez y Noelia Ramírez en motivo de la publicación del ensayo Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) en el podcast Amiga, Date Cuenta de Radio Primavera Sound. 30 de enero de 2024. Link

«Neogóticas: por qué el horror mágico invade las narratives del trauma». Reseña de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) y entrevista por Noelia Ramírez en El País. 25 de enero de 2024. Link

«12 libros ‘nicho’ que abren conversaciones para un año de club de lectura muy gratificante». Reseña de Traumacore. Crónicas de una disociación feminista (Cielo Santo, 2023) por Alba Correa en Vogue Spain. 2 de enero de 2024. Link

«Las llamas que amparan el fuego: LAS MALAS. Inéditos de La Casa Encendida». Reseña de la exposición colectiva LAS MALAS realizada en el marco del premio de comisariado Inéditos 2022, por Miguel Pardo en Beatburguer. 29 de junio de 2022. Link

«Criaturas Vulnerables e Inéditos». Entrevista por María Taosa en GENERACIÓN YA ràdio 3. 15 de junio de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanismo, una estimulante exposición. Entrevista a Eloy Fernández Porta y Núria Gómez Gabriel» por Fidel Moreno en Cáñamo. Publicado originalmente en el número 293 de la revista Cáñamo España. Link

«’Narcohumanisme’, les drogues com a crossa del capitalisme» por Alexandre Roa Casellas en Bonart. 18 de mayo de 2022. Link

«Entrevista: Núria Gómez Gabriel i Eloy Fernández Porta – Narcohumanisme» por Girona FM. 11 de mayo de 2022. Link

«La química de l’entusiasme» por Eduald Camps en Diari de Girona. 14 de abril de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanisme amb Núria Gómez Gabriel i Eloy Fernández Porta» Entrevista por Samanta Villar en Avui Sortim de RTVE. 29 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Narcocapitalismo: por qué el sistema nos necesita colocados y anestesiados» Reseña/ensayo a partir de exposición colectiva Narcohumanismo. Farmacias y estupefacientes en las prácticas artísticas actuales (Bòlit, 2022), por Noealia Ramírez  en El País. 26 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Narcohumanisme: les drogues com a evidencia de la nostra isuficiència» por Núria Surrell en NÚVOL ara.cat. 14 de marzo de 2022. Link

«Art i droga s’uneixen al Bòlit. Les seus de la Rambla i el Pou Rodó acullen a partir de demà ‘Narcohumanisme’, una exposició sobre l’impacte dels estupefaents en els individus i les relacions socials i polítiques» por Alba Carmona en Diari de Girona. 10 de marzo de 2022. Link

«El que pot un llibre #7» Conversación con Anna Pahissa en el Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Barcelona. 20 de noviembre de 2020. Link

«Es el mercado, amigo: no culpes al destino de lo que te pasa por usar Tinder», Entrevista por Sara Montero en cuartopoder.es. 10 de octubre de 2020. Link

«Tinder en tiempos de Covid. Diálogos en Red» Conversación con Cristina Hernández en La Térmica Centro de Cultura Contemporánea. 8 de octubre de 2020. Link

«Foddie Love con Núria Gómez Gabriel». Entrevista del programa Equilibristas de Radio 3. 20 de enero de 2020. Link

«Love me, Tinder: Què s’amaga darrera de l’app de moda?». Entrevista del programa El Matí de Catalunya Ràdio. 16 de septiembre de 2019. Link

«Ls felicidad en Tinder es el nuevo porno. Patrones sentimentales exhibidos en la red». Entrevista por Celia Blanco la SER. 3 de noviembre de 2019. Link

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The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. — The radicalization of the cute by Núria Gómez Gabriel / 11 November 2024 / Published: A*Desk Critical Thinking Magazine / Resident Editor: María Muñoz-Martínez / Radical Cuteness is a term that fuses adorableness with a deep political critique. This concept was developed by various contemporary researchers and artists in relation to cuteness, that is, things that are cute, adorable, cuddly, round and soft, tiny, plush or with the face of a kitten. You all know what I mean and I’m sure everyone has some images in their head, but before we get into them, here are four notes to get us onto the same page. I’d like to share with you some ideas from the cultural theorist Sianne Ngai, author of Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (2012). These categories, which might seem superficial, reflect aesthetic sensibilities linked to specific social and labor conditions of late capitalism and the new forms of contemporary power and horror. In particular, her analysis of “cute” has been fundamental to developing what we now call Radical Cuteness. Cute refers to objects that are small, simple, innocent and often vulnerable or defenseless. Cute is related to an aesthetic of weakness, which can inspire both affection and a desire for protection. But “cute” also has an ambivalent and critical dimension, as the charm of “tenderness” can hide relations of power and domination. Ngai points out that cuteness implies a caring response towards something that seems helpless but which can also be exploitative by reducing the object to something infantilised or passive, similar to categories such as the uncanny. But, what exactly does Radical Cuteness mean? At first glance, cuteness is associated with weakness, childishness or passivity, something that does not seem to carry any political weight. However, Ngai, along with Simon May and others, reveals how this aesthetic has a much more complex political charge since cuteness, far from being innocuous, can become a tool of power. This is where the idea of “radical” comes in. The term Radical Cuteness refers to how adorableness can be used in a subversive way, challenging social norms, gender roles, and power structures, by combining cuteness with resistance or social criticism. This is somewhat similar to the aesthetics that we have seen in 2024 with the proliferation of Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #sylvaniandrama in which users, especially millennials and zetas, open surprise envelopes of mini families of bunnies, squirrels, bears, ducks and baby ducks. Many of us played with these more than twenty years ago but they have now reappeared in the form of drama of heteronormativity and the nuclear family that explodes when the platform’s users decide to reinterpret those values from the perspective of queer culture and neurodiversity, reformulating certain stereotypes of femininity, as well. The journalist Ana Marco mentioned this in a cultural article in El País published July 26, but it is also mentioned by Momu & No Es, the artistic duo formed by Lucía Moreno and Eva Nogera, in their visual work for the event A LIVE 2024: Radical Cuteness.   One of the aesthetic sources of this concept is Japanese kawaii culture, which celebrates cuteness through characters such as Hello Kitty or Pokémon. These types of images, which traditionally represent innocence and vulnerability, can be transformed into disruptive tools when mixed with elements that are disturbing or that offer resistance. For example, using kawaii aesthetics in contexts of protest or rebellion generates a dissonance that disconcerts and subverts expectations. In this sense, cuteness is no longer something passive but rather acquires a symbolism of “soft power,” often associated with nostalgia, which has an indirect but powerful impact. From a political perspective, Radical Cuteness also challenges traditional gender roles as cuteness has historically been associated with the feminine, the infantile, and the subordinate. However, by appropriating this aesthetic, these patriarchal expectations are dismantled and transformed into a symbolic gesture of protest. Not only gender roles are challenged but also the ideal of hypermasculinity, which glorifies strength and toughness. The fragile, the vulnerable and the emotional, traditionally seen as defects, are now weapons of resistance against this dominant masculine norm. Furthermore, this concept questions capitalism being how the adorable is often commodified as cute characters and objects sold as products without a critical background. Radicalizing cuteness is a way of resisting this trivialization and of recovering its transformative potential, taking it beyond the commercial. Radical Cuteness also intersects with queer politics as it breaks binaries such as strong and weak, adult and childish, serious and trivial. In this sense, cuteness becomes a weapon that questions heteropatriarchal norms, opening up a space of resistance for dissident identities. In short, Radical Cuteness is a concept that invites us to rethink what we consider cute or innocent, revealing how cuteness can be a powerful form of resistance and critique in our society. It challenges us to see beyond superficiality and recognize that even the smallest and seemingly most harmless things can have a profound political and cultural impact. The fictional video Nation Estate by Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour was created, along with a series of photographs, in 2011. That year, Lacoste, the sponsor of the international photography awards Prix Elysée, demanded to remove the artist from its list of finalists because the work did not fit the theme of the competition: la joie de vivre or “the joy of life.” This important theme has often been represented in literature as an expression of a subject’s self-confidence, vitality, optimism, creativity and happiness, but in the 20th century it became associated with a tragic sense of life. Larissa reinterpreted the concept in a dystopian approach to the stagnation of the situation in the Middle East. This situation, as we know, has gone far beyond tragedy and has become genocide, but at that time Larissa worked with touches of humour, mixing computer-generated images and real people to create the Nation Estate. It is a vertical solution to the Palestinian conflict, a building capable of housing the entire Palestinian population. The elimination of Larissa Sansour from the list of finalists for the Elysée Awards caused such a controversy that the organisation finally cancelled the 2011 edition, but the Museu de l’Art Prohibit decided to acquire it as part of its collection. Larissa Sansour’s post-irony is related to the concept of Radical Cuteness by using an attractive and futuristic visual aesthetic to make a deep political critique of the Palestinian occupation. Cleanliness and order produce a sinister appearance of perfection and harmony, something that Radical Cuteness aesthetic shares. By politicizing hygiene, Larissa questions how certain ideas of cleanliness and bodily control are not necessarily beneficial. From Larissa’s geopolitical dystopia to the dystopian unconscious of the internet: 1 online presents the artist-researcher Alex Quicho, author of the horror book Small Gods (Zero Books, 2021), in which she talks about the significance of drone technology, and the visual artist Noura Tafeche, specialized in net.art and radical entertainment. The two of them are authors of the performative conference “She’s Evil, Most Definitely Subliminal,” which was presented for the first time at the last edition of Transmediale in February 2024 in Berlin. This performance was not exempt from controversy, either, as the people involved in the event had to sign a document issued by the Berlin Senate in which they agreed not to make any explicit mention of the Palestine conflict. I would like to share with you a small framework of the material they work with to help provide some context. In digital culture, subliminals are DIY videos or popular, high-impact soundtracks in which statements are subtly accommodated at almost imperceptible auditory levels covered over by a rhythmic base. In this way, they bypass the logical and conscious mind to be directly recorded by our unconscious. The title of the conference suggests the concept of subliminal evil, playing with the idea that cuteness can be a disguise that hides a subversive challenge to traditional norms, especially in terms of gender and power. The treatment of certain subliminal tactics, along with the artillery of the state army’s e-girls, create a series of intersections between war and personal development, attractiveness and unease, and innocence and subversion, in which the battle is waged by means of seduction, influence, disturbance and confusion. By reprogramming one’s psyche, the enemy (or ideology) becomes more internal than external. This text is part of the “Radical Cuteness” event held on November 6. —