Fire (Fired Ire Red)
(2026)
A 12-hour event organized by Christof Migone.
ALL EDITIONS
YOU
1st edition, December 12, 2020
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
AND
2nd edition, December 12, 2021
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
I
3rd edition, December 12, 2022
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
ARE
4th edition, December 12, 2023
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
WATER
5th edition, December 12, 2024
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
EARTH
6th edition, December 12, 2025
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here.
FIRE
7th edition, December 12, 2026
– Link to archive of YouTube livestream here (tba).
LINKS
– Link to main info page on the 12-year project here.
– Link to the project site here.
– Link to the project page for the 2026 edition here.
INFO ON 2026 EDITION
“Fire (Fired Ire Red)” is curated by Christof Migone and Milo Thesiger-Meacham.
The seventh in a series of twelve annual events taking place on December 12 from noon to midnight EST.
Each year the event moves through each word of the 12-word phrase you and I are water earth fire air of life and death and activates the word of the year in myriad ways.
The first year it started with ‘YOU’, then in 2021 ‘AND’ came to connect you to anything and everything, and in 2022 that point of connection was ‘I’—the porous one, the sole collective. With ‘ARE’ in 2023, action entered the fray. Then in 2024, ‘WATER’ kept things moving. Last year, with ‘EARTH’, we were grounded. This year, we are on ‘FIRE’.
THE FIRE FILES
All of these earths sink, one after the other, into the rekindling flames to be reborn and die down again—the monotonous stream of an hourglass eternally emptying and turning itself over; a new that’s always old and an old that’s always new.
— Louis-Auguste Blanqui, Eternity by the Stars
And what is Earth? Some mud, some glue, a meteor, can it belong to itself? Where are we? In the middle, at the beginning, the end? Who is we, is it you plus me, or something expandandable, explosive?
— Etel Adnan, The Sun on the Tongue
and I speak
and my word is peace
and I speak and my word is earth
and I speak
and
Joy
bursts in the new sun
and I speak:
through knowing grasses time glides
the branches pecking at a peace of green flames
and the earth breathed under the gauze of mists
and the earth stretched. There was a cracking
in its knotted shoulders. There was in its veins
a crackling of fire.
— Aimé Césaire, The Miraculous Weapons
The smell of singed paper haunts me.
Is this a burning, is it a song?
Sing, singed.
The smell of singed paper haunts me with a song.
Sing, singed, sung.
— Daniela Cascella, Singed
From my early childhood, before my bones, nerves, and veins were fully strengthened, I have always seen this vision in my soul. The light that I see is not spatial, but it is far, far brighter than a cloud that carries the sun. I call it ‘the reflection of the living Light’. When it happens I see, hear, and know all at once. It’s as if in an instant I learn all that I know. And what I write is what I see and hear in the vision. And the words in this vision are not like words uttered by the mouth of man, but like a shimmering flame, or a cloud floating in a clear sky.
— Hildegard von Bingen, letter to Guibert of Gembloux (1175)
the binary light, as a phase
in the flight of a bullet.
The report, when it reaches me
—ununique
and sequelesque: a string
of quantum noise — goes in one
ear and out of the eyes.
— Andrew Zawacki, Unsun
my body is a stray bullet. i was made from crossfire. love was her last resort. his mouth, a revolver.
— Billy-Ray Belcourt, This Wound Is a World
Fire is the ultra-living element. It is intimate and it is universal. It lives in our heart. It lives in the sky. It rises from the depths of the substance and offers itself with the warmth of love. Or it can go back down into the substance and hide there, latent and pent-up, like hate and vengeance. Among all phenomena, it is the only one to which there can be attributed the opposing values of good and evil. It shines in Paradise. It burns in Hell. It is gentleness and torture. It is cookery and apocalypse.
— Gaston Bachelard, The Psychoanalysis of Fire
I know, like everyone, how to light this fire so that its love will warm us, but how to control its power when the eruptive blaze makes the air unbreathable and bombs the fields, evaporates the water and desolates our earth with nuclear hate?
– Michel Serres, Biogea
Just then there was a loud noise downstairs. Inside Geryon something burst into flames.
– Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red
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