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Pinn, Anthony B. Interplay of Things: Religion, Art, and Presence Together. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2021. 280 pp. ISBN 9781478014461. Donovan Schaefer, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, PA doschaef@upenn.edu Anthony B. Pinn’s Interplay of Things: Religion, Art, and Presence Together is a rich, sophisticated, and deeply rewarding meditation on the phenomenological structure of the human encounter with things in the world. This encounter, for Pinn, is best understood through “religion,” which he identifies as a sort of meta-encounter that helps us better understand the nature of human interaction itself. The key phrase for Pinn’s argument about religion and art, resonating with a long history of phenomenological reflection, is “presence together.” For Pinn, humans are best understood as what he calls “naming-things”—that is, the kind of being that applies names to other things. (Non-naming things, are “thing-things.”) Even though humans have a unique status (qua naming-thing), this is not to signal our elevation above the rest of the world; instead, we are radically open to other things—a quality which we share with thing-things. The picture of a community of things—of all natures—in a field of mutual openness and interrelationship is what Pinn means by “presence together.” Religion, as Pinn understands it, is best understood as a “technology” that plays a role in guiding attention to presence together. This line of thought develops Pinn’s earlier work on African American nontheistic humanism—a philosophy that rejects not religion (nor even theology) but solely the theological position of theism. Both theology and religion, as Pinn presents them, are valuable resources for philosophical reflection in all its political, existential, and aesthetic dimensions. In Interplay of Things, Pinn applies this recuperative perspective on religion to art. While claiming distance from certain theological positions (and Pinn is not shy about critically engaging with theologies that, as he sees them, lend themselves to the “closing” of the body—idealizing a pure body that is detached from the raw physical dimension of embodied life), Pinn in this book reckons religion as valuable precisely because of the way it leads to reflection on presence together. Art, in Pinn’s schema, is a modality of religion. It succeeds in the task of sparking reflection by, in essence, deploying an artistic frame: rather than insulating an object, the artistic frame around a thing calls our attention to the necessity of our relationship to that thing, the fact of our openness to it—and its openness to us. Through the “art of placement,” we’re directed to reflect on the nature of presence, openness, and thingness itself. “Art,” Pinn writes, “becomes a particular geography in which and by means of which religion as a technology does its work” (52). This theory of art and aesthetics has political implications, too. The awareness of presence together leads to an openness to interplay. Interplay refutes ontologies of stasis, the conservative metaphysics of the way things are, have been, and always will be. Presence together prompts our openness to new ways of living, being, and encountering others in community. Pinn pays special attention to the art of the grotesque, the abject, and the disgusting—the art of shit, as he characterizes it in Chapter 5. Against theological fantasies of transfigured or purified bodies, the fact of shit reveals the uncomfortable proximity of humans and things. “Bodied naming-things,” Pinn writes, “are open and troublingly so. They are penetrated by their surroundings, consumed by and consuming of the waste around them” (197). Pinn is especially interested in the implications of this conceptual ecology for race. “What happens,” he asks, “when the social coding imposed on the bodied naming-thing serves to hamper its openness?” (133). This enclosure of some bodies—rendering them inert, fixed, “blackened”—is built into the conceptual machinery of white supremacy, making it all the more urgent that Black artists assert openness: “against societal wishes, African American naming-things seek interplay between themselves and other things so as to maintain openness over against boundaries limiting interaction on particular sociopolitical and economic fronts” (176). Pinn notes that performance art, for instance, is often about improvising with bodies (naming-things) in such a way as to intensify their proximity to thing-things. This is, he points out, a particularly charged technique in the hands of Black artists: “there are other cultural codes (e.g., blackness, blackness and gender, blackness and gender and class) assigned to those naming-things, other ways in which the blending of naming-thing/thing-thing is challenged, but in this case not for the benefit of African Americans” (93). The reassertion of the singularity of naming-things is vital, and especially so when it is done by those who have been forced into the role of objects. Interplay of Things offers fascinating contributions not only to material religion scholarship, but to material culture studies, Black studies, and phenomenological philosophy more generally. One of the many remarkable features of this book is its refusal to be seduced by a narrow, hypertrendy canon. It avoids scholarly fast fashion, while still mobilizing an active dialogue with lively contemporary sources. This is, of course, consistent with Pinn’s commitment to thinking with openness, to dwelling—and regenerating—a conversational contact zone, from contemporary Thing Theory and New Materialisms to Du Bois and Camus. Not only that, the philosophical components of the book are deftly connected with a wide range of artworks, artists’ writings and interviews, performances, and exhibits from a range of figures including Angelbert Metoyer, Marina Abramovic, Adrian Piper, Jim Dine, Maurizio Cattelan, Piero Manzoni, Romare Bearden, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and many others. Pinn’s staging of a conversation between Thing Theory—a blend of literary theory and phenomenological hermeneutics—and New Materialisms—which have tended to avoid expressly phenomenological concerns—and his triangulation of a new approach drawing on, but not reducible to, either body of scholarship, is one of the book’s most salient contributions. Pinn takes from Thing Theory a fascination with the phenomenological encounter between bodies and things in the world; from New Materialisms, he takes the keen attention to the multidirectional field of interactions surrounding things in the world, the “actancy” or “vital materiality” not only of human “agents” but of inanimate objects that build live networks. Where New Materialisms are often criticized for neglecting subjectivity, Pinn elegantly inserts the horizon of phenomenological encounter within their conceptual framework. Pinn’s alchemical fusion of these two seemingly disjunct bodies of scholarship proffers a major contribution to material culture studies and contemporary theoretical conversations more broadly. Pinn also offers an important correction to material culture approaches that overemphasize the category of “meaning”—an issue with a number of schools of thought taking cues from late-20th-century cultural anthropology. Although he doesn’t spend significant time breaking down the definition of this notoriously watery concept, Pinn offers a decisive criticism in the way he insists on moving on from inert “meaning” to a sensitivity to the dynamics of encounter—presence together rather than “meaning” as a product of detached observation. One aspect of Pinn’s project that I hope to see explicated further in his future writings is how presence together connects with aesthetics, the full-spectrum palette of how we sense, feel, and respond to the world around us. He offers a vivid theory of art as such—and gripping readings of specific artworks as drivers of philosophical and political conversations. Is the only role of art the surfacing of philosophical and political processes? How does some art succeed and other art fail? Must art be good to stoke our awareness of presence together? Is art always part of an opening? Or can art operate as a form of enclosure? I suspect Pinn could write another book on this topic, which would be a welcome companion piece to Interplay of Things. This is, of course, not a criticism; it is, rather, one of many lines of dialogue that will be inspired by Pinn’s exceptionally generative contribution to the rapidly evolving conversation around materiality, art, religion, and culture.