CosmiKnot

My Sowl is not the wisest part of me or Even as I grow older and knowledge recedes Can I cede that the sagacity I once yearned for Is over the hill where yonder learned man bleeds. Essentially is my sowl or essential-self present in my nonhuman qualities?  Or am I an amalgam of perceived human cognitive concepts? T he idea that humans are selfish, mechanistisic individuals who must be governed is essentially a view created and reinforced by the mechanistic media (rooted in the visual bias), the proprietors of which benefit from this mechanised system being maintained (it is not a conspiracy but a self-maintaining system). To compensate for our misgivings and to quell any longings various periodical mechanisms are used to give us of a transient soothing sense of a surrogate connection to altruistic acts of shared imagination.

Entangled Occasion with Eyelets #1 The Sun is bright I wake up early I take a photo of the shadow on the dining room wall For centuries painting as gnawed at its arm in the hope of escaping the shackles of its own essential thingness (see Michaelangelo self-portrait as the flayed Saint Bartholemew) or in the hazy hope of jumping the train from Giotto at a station that is not designanted (see Phillip K. Dick The Commuter) where the soul resides. Self-harm (Fontana) anatomical dissection and denial (Kippenberger Heavy Guy) have not greatly helped in the quest for meaning, which has become a shameful joke often accompanied by a rueful shake of the head. Data and sensory input have no meaning in themselves and yet... and yet there is something there through the unremembered gate. A misunderstanding of Artistotle’s essence as inert object has led to the erroneous certainty (all certainties are erroneous repeat to fade) that by standing very still (see Ucello the Battle...

Reading about  Hito Steyerl   I found the desire to reclaim the experience of art exciting but I began to recollect a discussion I had attended about theory communiste, which advocates the creation of instantaneous revolution rather than the production of preparatory propaganda for a revolution of the future. The power of the institution is upheld by direct protest art like the songs of the proles. This is what Orwell revealed when Winston and Julia betray Love in 1984. It's what one might call fucking self-neutering art. Art belongs to a realm beyond and outside of the institution accessed from the gaps in the fabric of its all enveloping mesh. Art understands the language of the soul or perhaps it is that but only by virtue of appearing in the gaps in the living society. The problem is that much time and effort is spent reacting against the patriarchal institution and yet much of this this effort by attempting to adopt a cynical or aggressive stance, rejects the soul in equa...