May 2012
61 posts
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One does not only wish to be understood when one writes; one wishes just a surely not to be understood. It is not by any means necessarily an objection to a book when anybody finds it impossible to understand: perhaps that was part of the author’s intention – he did not want to be understood by just “anybody”. Every more noble spirit and taste selects its audience when it wishes to communicate...
When a spatula, a palette knife and a shovel becomes one. Being cognizant of the multiple functions of objects can lead one to realize the futility of labels we reduce them [objects] to.
There was a time I used a capo as a pot-holder and a screwdriver as a corkscrew.
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You’re like a Pierre Soulages piece—possessing a reservedly ambiguous yet calculating presence, with Hans Hartung’s gestural charm and Salvador Dali’s acute vulgarity.
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Nature is nothing other than a human being’s surroundings, in the midst of which the activity of his thought, feeling and action - of his nervous system, in other words - unfolds.
The human being is distinguished from the nature surrounding him by the fact that he is sure that he possesses a consciousness of which his environment (nature) cannot boast. Out of this arises a certain contradiction...
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Mark Webber must win on my favourite race track
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I think it’s actually happening. The circle of the creative mind. That human addition—one characterized by will—to natural reality. Art was born as imitation, but it has made progress through distortion. Thought was originally born as interpretation, but in fields such as pure metaphysics it has become autonomous.
On one hand, there was concrete practice, and on the other hand imaginative...
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just started working as my mum’s assistant editor. not much to do here which is the reason for my placement.
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A Vast Confusion
Long long I lay in the sands Sounds of trains in the surf in subways of the sea And an even greater undersound of a vast confusion in the universe a rumbling and a roaring as of some enormous creature turning under sea and earth a billion sotto voices murmuring a vast muttering a swelling stuttering in ocean’s speakers world’s voice-box heard with ear to sand a shocked echoing a...
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Watch
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The supreme ritual of our time is not probably either that of bagging live meat on the hoof or appeasing the alleged mysterious forces of the universe. It is the ritual of possession, the creation of possessible things, the conservation of the possessible, the ritual process by which the things of the world and then their reproductions or representations are validated so that they can become...
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[One] is simultaneously both a ‘victim’ and a viewer, who on the one hand surveys and evaluates the installation, and on the other, follows those associations, recollections which arise in him[;] he is overcome by the intense atmosphere of the total illusion.
—Ilya Kabakov, On the Total Installation
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The spiritual life can be accurately represented by a diagram of a large acute triangle divided into unequal parts, with the most acute and smallest division at the top. The farther down one goes, the larger, broader, more extensive, and deeper become the divisions of the triangle. The whole triangle moves slowly, barely perceptibly, forward and upward, so that where the highest point is “today;”...
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Make visible what, without you, might perhaps have never been seen.
—Robert Bresson, Notes on the Cinematographer
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[…] what is higher about the spirit and its artistic beauty is not something merely relative in comparison with nature. On the contrary, spirit is alone the true, comprehending everything in itself, so that everything beautiful is truly beautiful only as sharing in this higher sphere and generated by it. In this sense the beauty of nature appears only as a reflection of beauty that belongs...
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I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun; waiting either for some passing ship, or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastnesses of unbroken blue.
—H.P. Lovecraft, Dagon
Morning Rain
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“You’re a carl jung-ian. Tell me my life and troubles now.”
– Tom, after narrating his dreams
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Those thinkers in whom all stars move in cyclic orbits are not the most profound: whoever looks into himself as into vast space and carries galaxies in himself also knows how irregular all galaxies are; they lead into the chaos and labyrinth of existence.
—Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science
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To have a friend: to keep him. To follow him with your eyes. Still to see him when he is no longer there and to try to know, listen to, or read him when you know that you will see him no longer—and that is to cry.
To have a friend, to look at him, to follow him with your eyes, to admire him in friendship, is to know in a more intense way, already injured, always insistent, and more and more...
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Able-bodied men succumbed to an inertia that saw them spend more and more days on their backs, in their beds. Women sat at windows, lost in other worlds. Some bore the scars of rejection in their hearts, others upon their faces. There were those big with favours given, and those wasted by favours taken.
Intemperance. Self-abuse. Gluttony. Sloth.
There were some homes that took in Madness as a...
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360 minutes of asian cinema + pho hoa, sushi and long walks with my sister.
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A shard of glass, a chain of silver
a bar of charred, chopped wood.
The sea jerks off
in attempt to gain independence
from the moon.
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According to a new transposition of the ancient notion that the artist is nothing other than a conduit for energies that he incarnates in the things he makes, the Elsewhere whence those energies come is now imagined to be, in the largest sense, the ‘material’ of art itself. For example, the notion of that language, considered as a discorporate faculty of an entire psycholinguistic...
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*~Tofu Steak~*
INGREDIENTS
1 pack of Japanese firm tofu (the square blocks one and make sure it’s JAPANESE and not CHINESE because the Chinese one disintegrates upon contact with the pan)
1 cup of soy sauce
1/3 cup of white vinegar or 3 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar
spring onions, chopped
1 onion, chopped finely
1 carrot, slice however you want it. a flower is a good shape or you can totally shred...
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Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are the center of all my labors and my loves. If I’ve wept for you so much, it’s because I preferred you among so many outlined joys.
—Blank Joy, Rainer Maria Rilke
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Утро - Ритуал
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For every work of art becomes a symbol and a sign, but not always of the same thing. A work of art implies the possibility of a reincarnation. And the world of history can only lose its meaning in the contemporary will of man. It is for each of us, in his own field and through his own efforts, and for the sake of all those who are engaged in a quest of themselves, to recreate the phantom heritage...
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He said of himself that he was the first complete nihilist of Europe. Not by choice, but by condition, and because he was too great to refuse the heritage of his time. He diagnosed in himself, and in others, the inability to believe and the disappearance of the primitive foundation of all faith—namely the belief in life. The “Can one live as a rebel?” became with him “Can one live, believing in...
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For it seems to me that ah had always been drawn to this grim and murky place where ordinary souls would not dare to venture: where the mist lifts off the compost that lines the floor and hangs amongst the woven ceiling of vine and branch like an artificial sky - where the tall, thin trees all seem to bend toward me in the attitudes of worship - where a million lumping shadows collide and...
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for the past week until the present, I have:
quit the job I had been keeping for 3+ years
filed an indefinite leave from the University
started seeing a psychologist and a psychiatrist which I think was one of the best advice I’ve taken, thus far. I’m presently on medication and although the anti-depressants and the sedatives manage to make me sleepy half the time, a massive...
