A Queer Little God

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Nothing is distinct from its other; the foundation of development is the sinking sun. The hands of youth interlocked in a ring, dancing around the microcosm before “we all fall down” a-tissue, a-tissue, a tissue of life. The object, in phenomenological space, is created from the inside out; neural space constitutes it from the outside in, but the two collide and the object is lost to itself; we have only our mind to know our mind.

The subject and object become indistinct. The illusive essence of beauty may be found within the unifying, exponentially multiplying purity of the Labyrinth – that so-called subjective universality that has so worried critics and cynics since Kant is no longer a problem when the model of nature is taken from that paradigm. The interior is synonymous with the exterior, the personal joy one has in beauty is intrinsically public, shared with the entire populace – beauty is the propellant that fires us through ourselves, that allows us to burst through introspection and return to the greater vehicle.

The Labyrinth offers us self-consciousness as consciousness of the entire universe, or more precisely it offers us self-consciousness as inseparable from consciousness of the universe. As the Socratic aphorism goes “I know but one thing, that I know nothing” and it is so with the Labyrinth – never fixing knowledge to a specific x,y axis but instead experiencing itself in all its wondrous disorientation.
Like Hansel and Gretel we must trace every movement as a line; we are forever connected to each forest we pass through, the cut made by the line of our movement through space is not a void but a change in frequency; the line is not tangible or palpable but effects a change that is such; increase the frequency with which our lines dissect one another, the greater the number of intersections the more likely it is that we will break from the Labyrinth (the “hardest labyrinth is the straight line”). These lines can never be cut, they are beyond decay as they stretch in-between time, they are beyond decay as they are spatially indistinct, neither inside nor outside; the Labyrinth is the poetic equivalent of the mathematical non-orientable two-dimensional surface of the Mobius strip.
The Labyrinth is not infinite per se, instead escape from the Labyrinth is indefinitely postponed, the jury is always in contention, the executioner yet to be awoken from his festering cot. Within the Labyrinth there will always be hubs of intense activity, like the hubs within the internet, like the hubs in the genome, like the hubs within pandemics, epidemics, hubs where a barrage of lines inter-connect, effecting an oscillation so violent and vigorous that they significantly alter the angle/velocity with which lines are attracted or repulsed.

There is a threefold propulsion within each person that walks the paths of the Labyrinth, pushed forward by the energy of the line that we leave behind and pulled forward by two lines reaching down to our immediate location and forward, the passive line of reactive forces and the active lines of proactive forces, when these lines align movement is unstoppable and rapid, when all men and their individual lines of propulsion are in a state of unity, leaps are made which would otherwise be deemed impossible. This three-fold propulsion can only be gauged by its movement through Deleuzian three-fold time, that is Habitus, Mnemosyne and Aion..

 

Hansel and Gretel walking through the forest: they are every b
r
e
a
d
c
r
u
m
b
that they have dropped:
they are every b
r
e
a
d
c
r
u
m
b
that they will drop:

Hungry birds are the agents of deterritorialisation.

Consumed by greed they will devour your d

e

m

i

s

e (transferred by descent)

and cause the demise of a lonely old woman.
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She lived alone. She lived in a tumble down cottage. The bricks of the cottage crumbled like a dry cake. You could see why the children would be confused when they ate the bricks, but this is not about them.
Where once had been her family, her friends, her life, set in a shimmering sunlight in the glade of a forest, she now sat undisturbed, staring out and waiting for them to return.
She did not know that her sister had been eaten by a wolf.
She did not know that her brother had been clubbed to death by an angry troll on the span of a bridge.
She did not know that her mother had eaten a poisoned apple and died in agony.
She did not know that her father was actually the wolf that had killed her sister, and in his madness and grief had taken his own life.
She did not know that her cousin had pricked her finger on the needle of a spinning wheel and, rather than cleaning the wound with a mild disinfectant, had just fallen asleep, subsequently developing a bad case of tetanus and eventually dying.
She did not know that her best friend, had in fact been a fictional construct used to analogise the variants of the quantum world.
All she knew was that they had not returned one day.
In her sadness the forest in which she lived was left untended, it grew untamed, it grew unruly and enveloped the little cobbled path that once led her safely to the nearest village.
She did not mind that she could not see the path however, as she still had a map that showed her all the 7 kingdoms that surrounded her cottage. She kept the map locked safe inside a chest that sat underneath the table next to the stove in her kitchen.
Every second Wednesday she would take the map out and pour over it. She did this for years until finally the map disintegrated in her hands.
This is the very reason that the lady never left her cottage as, although she could remember the map perfectly, having seen it so many times, she could not locate the map within her own mind as she did not have access to Computed Axial Tomography, Diffuse Optical Imaging, Event-related Optical Signalling, Magnetic Resonance Imaging, Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging, Magnetoencephalography, Positron Emission Tomogaphy or even Single-Photon Emission Computed Tomography. So just as she had lived alone, she died alone, knowing exactly where she was in relation to everything else except herself.

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Everything that follows is a reconstitution, a reconstruction of a set of original writings that were lost, burnt, torn, muddied, water logged and made in a variety of means, unreadable. The gaps have been filled but the monster child stands at odds with its parents. We cannot know for sure where the owl was originally perched nor if the monkey walked with a dandyish gait twirling his cane or if in fact he limped, his weight bearing down upon his right hand side, dragging his left behind him. The left hand-side drags, the left-hand side drags, the-left hand side drags, the left hand side-drags.
The visual memory flickers two feet above my shoulder and three foot to the right of where I actually stand. Disintegration of the tempero-parietal junction; disruption of several phenomenological and cognitive aspects of self-processing = illusory reduplication, illusory self-location, illusory perspective, and illusory agency. Everything visible is illusory, it is light itself that is guilty not ourselves. Pietà, Pietà, the sun falls to its knees (it folds). Vesperbild, vesperbild (verzetteln): the canvas rips, it folds in upon itself. The subject is subjected to further subjectification (a sado-masochistic move by the artist) a passivity that yields a yearning.

One subject becomes desirous of/to the subject it has become dislocated from….
object                                              object

The viewer fills the rift with their own desire and we willingly alienate ourselves from our respective points (t-spatial) within the prescribed order of things: Kafka: the world is no bigger than the two feet planted upon it….
Nine minutes past nine/all is quiet, all is still/Nine minutes past nine/still quiet, quiet, still/before and after this double time eats at your mind/ Five minutes past five/Sunday morning we felt fine/Five minutes past five/Sunday morning we felt fine/before and after the question is asked: ‘did you see all the dead revolutionaries/Selling piece of mind, high in the cold blue sky?//
(Well, at least it is for an affordable price)
We will turn Dull into Divine.
We will turn Simple into Saintly.
We will turn Maniacs into Messiahs.
So Senseless/So Immaculate.

The synapses of the parietal cortex are put to siege by a sporadic harem of images within images (cf. electronic blips and beeps).
….

Within a single cortex is an ideology of difference: a network of the artificial and natural. Artificial images of artificial artefacts reflected in painted mirrors reflecting a spectre that becomes more real than if it were natural. There is an inverse magical quality to P.R.’s work – with the visible stratum of production acting as a complex ritual upon which the commodity fetish of art becomes both a sacrosanct and heretical totem: a constant feedback loop of decontextualisation, recontextualisation, open dialogue – ideological diatribe – back to free discourse – inter-relationaity.
The snake twists in an embrace upon a checked board straining fervently and intimately within its multiple confines
Confined within the paint its skin is rendered in, the paint its skin is rendered in is confined within the first plane, two thirds sky-blue/one third desert yellow, the first plane, two thirds sky-blue/one third desert yellow is confined within the small painted frame that first surrounds this interior window, the small painted frame that first surrounds this interior window is confined within the first row of chequered squares, 34 white, 34 black; the first row of chequered squares, 34 white, 34 black are confined within 38b/38w squares; 38b/38w squares are confined within 42b/42w squares; 42b/42w squares are confined within 46b/46w squares; 46b/46w squares are confined within 50b/50w squares; 50b/50w squares are confined within 54b/54w squares; 54b/54w squares are confined within 58b/58w squares; 58b/58w squares are confined within 62b/62w squares; 62b/62w squares are confined within 66b/66w squares; 66b/66w squares are confined within 70b/70w squares; 70b/70w squares are confined within 74b/74w squares; 74b/74w squares are confined within 78b/78w squares; 78b/78w squares are confined within 82b/82w squares; 82b/82w squares are confined within 86b/86w squares; 86b/86w squares are confined within 90b/90w squares; 90b/90w squares are confined within 94b/94w squares; 94b/94w squares are confined within 98b/98w squares; 98b/98w squares are confined within 102b/102w squares; 102b/102w squares confined within 106b/106w squares; 106b/106w squares are confined within 110b/110w squares; 110b/110w squares are confined within 114b/114w squares; 114b/114w squares are confined within 118b/118w squares; 118b/118w squares are confined within 122b/122w squares; 122b/122w squares are confined within 126b/126w squares; 126b/126w squares are confined within a wooden frame
confined within the room in which it hangs in the gallery
confined within its place within the never-ending cycle of production-distribution-consumption cycle.
“In order that the intensity of a sensation may increase in arithmetical progression the stimulus must increase in geometrical progression”

All systems of classification are inherently an imposition of power. Whether that power takes the form of political, religious or idealistic domination, how we classify our possessions is borne from and infers our individual beliefs; the visible exhibition of a museum or gallery being allocated the function of “establishing self-certainty, constituting identity and stabilising a memory or knowledge that is socially conveyed and shared.”# In the artwork and strategies of Phil Root we often see that his classification and knowledge-ordering schemes do not correspond with the prescribed order and contradict the scientific taxonomy.
We witness a questioning of certainty, a definitive resistance to Modernism’s endowment of the museum “with the highest authority”# and an opening up of the possibility of “truth.” We see this questioning occurring most, arguably, in his treatment of nature. The eco feminist Donna Haraway posited that nature is constantly reinvented by humans as a series of social constructs, and that “cultural assumptions shape and reshape ideas of nature.”

Here we see not a classification of typicality but instead an ideology of difference, a conversation between the artificial and the natural. …. …..a unique vision of the commodity fetish
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Sitting two foot behind you, and four inches above your eyeline, two points of the Universe discuss the preparations of their migration.
Enter Alpha, enter Omega.

α
It cannot go on like this. It has changed too much.

Ω
You are unusually vocal today.

α
It has all changed. It cannot go on like this.

Ω
I can see Mars from here. It is burning brighter in the sky these days, I am quite sure it is.

α
It just seems like it. Curiosity has got the better of you.

Ω
If it just seems to be burning brighter then nothing has changed, just my eyes and everything behind them. Nothing has changed, and you can still go on like this.

Α
I remember when I was on my own. When you were not here with me.

Ω
I have always been here with and will always be with you until the very end.

Α
After that I would like to start again.

Ω
We have already started again.

Α
It feels as if we are nearing the end.

Ω
We have already finished.

Α takes a sip from her glass as Ω falls silently from his chair, each of his fingertips inexplicably burning with a violent phosphorescent flame.

Α
Did you mean to do that?

Ω
No.

Α
Did you know that was going to happen?

Ω
(silent)

Α
Did you know that was going to happen?

Ω
(silent)

Α
Did you know that was going to happen?

Ω
(silent)

Α
Did you know that was going to happen?

Ω
Nothing happened.
What is it you used to sing to me?

Α
I have no strength to sing anymore.

Ω
I do not want you to sing to me. I just want you to remember what you used to sing.

Α
I would only remember what I used to sing once I was already singing it.

Ω
Really?
I am quite the opposite.

Α and Ω
Not at all.

Α
Are you ready to leave? Have you everything you care to take?

Ω
I have more than I care to carry, certainly. All this weight, all these events that have come before, I would be rid of them sooner than I am allowed.

Α
Allowed? Who is it you are waiting for permission from? If the weight is too much, nevermind the wait.

Ω
There is an Order to things.

Α
That is a little banal of you. I thought you saw the Sun set as it simultaneously dawned and the Moon wane as it concurrently waxed? To say that “There is an Order to things” makes me think I go on this journey with someone that I used to love but who I now know less of than I do the most passing of strangers.

Ω
By an Order of Things I do not mean that on our journey the succeeding step will follow the preceding step. Movement from one point to another is not a singular event. Like Hansel and Gretel we track every movement with a physical interruption of our environment, whilst we actively move we are already in the process of actively remembering, every step is both past and present at the very same time and within the intention becomes also the future reckoning of our destination.
We are forever connected to each forest we pass through, every mountain we ascend, every ocean we traverse as the cut made by the line of our movement through space is not a void but a change in frequency; the line is not tangible or palpable but effects a change that is such. “The Order of Things” which seems to so offend your sensibilities and makes of me a distant and dispassionate lover is rather the greatest most intimate of tremblings that causes Time itself to vibrate and interfere with its own causality.

Α
And where is it exactly that we are travelling to?

Ω
It is rather what we are travelling through that should be of concern.

Α
And what is that?

Ω
The Labyrinth.

Α
But you have said before that the Labyrinth is inescapable, almost infinite in its self-reflexivity.

Ω
The Labyrinth is not infinite per se, instead escape from the Labyrinth is indefinitely postponed, the jury is always in contention, the executioner yet to be awoken from his festering cot. Within the Labyrinth there will always be hubs of intense activity, like the hubs within the internet, like the hubs in the genome, like the hubs within pandemics, epidemics, hubs where a barrage of lines inter-connect, effecting an oscillation so violent and vigorous that they significantly alter the angle/velocity with which lines are attracted or repulsed, energy is never lost within the Labyrinth.

Α
But we will forever be lost?

Ω
Yes, that is our lot.

Α
I do not have the energy to be lost forever.

Ω
Do not worry, you will not tire. There is a threefold propulsion within each person that walks the paths of the Labyrinth, pushed forward by the energy of the line that we leave behind and pulled forward by two lines reaching down to our immediate location and forward, the passive line of reactive forces and the active lines of proactive forces. When these lines align movement is unstoppable and rapid, when all travellers and their individual lines of propulsion are in a state of unity, leaps are made which would otherwise be deemed impossible. This three-fold propulsion can only be gauged by its movement through Deleuzian three-fold time, that is Habitus, Mnemosyne and Aion.

Α
Enough of this, we are running late and I cannot stand even the slightest sense of delay.
It throws me off for the rest of the day, and each following day I am trying to catch up with what has been irretrievably lost.
Have you the map with you?

Ω
No. We do not need it. We have already arrived at our point of departure.

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