CosmiKnot

It occurs to her that everything she thought was thought is only the surface of things. Thoughts being opinions or judgements that is. You may think you think something and let your mind meander round the thought to pull it into focus and line up with the post rational view point until it feels like something you feel. And yet what if you decide to blur out these kinds of   thought and simply feel she thought? The thoughts then become like the gravel on a driveway, which looks to the eye like a smooth surface but you can dig down a few inches to a lower level but still it remains a surface, albeit one with a shallow depth. What if really real life is the event below these thoughts accessed by actual feeling but because we are so convinced by the veracity of linguistic reason we find a way of determining that this is real life and within that shallow surface we can find the statements and equations to prove it.     Growing up she had not worn hearing aids and a modera...

  For a few days now you’ve had a nagging feeling about an idea that would bring clarity to how you feel about stuff. You see already you are into the realm of the nebulous statement. That’s why it’s so important that you remember that naggin feeling. You’ve lost that nagging feeling. Well no actually you have the nagging feeling because you lost the idea. You’re scouring the inside of your head. Gently so as not to erase any vestige of the concepts on the magic slate at the front of your skull. It’s a little tricky because the lost idea is to do with how thinking is not all done inside the head. You had planned to go for a walk in order to creep up on yourself and catch yourself muttering something that might reveal this conceptual verity. What you don’t want is to sit down and start writing yourself further and further away from the simplicity of the lost idea.   You have a vague intuition that this idea had something to do with plastic figurines. Maybe even the plastic tote...

The human brain contains The old chestnut That the outside world Does not exist unless He observes it This is the Lands End Of concrete specificity The model requiring that We keep stepping outside To check things Pass muster No we declare there is no such limit No lands end There is something in this Such is the sanctity of the concrete And perhaps  Leibniz was closer With the reckoning Of a miasma of Specific points of view Each a subjective position Defined by the point of view But even this requires Total faith in the misplaced concreteness Of simple localisation And who here is willing To commit the heretical act Of claiming the cosmos does not revolve Around the human brain?

This artwork questions the idea of art as a form of interrogation of habitual patterns.  Art is not a mode of questioning. To make it so is to rob it of its status as otherworldly form within the worldliness of things. You wouldn’t greet an indigenous culture with hello and thanks for your role as questioning my habitual patterns of living. It may have that effect on you but to introduce the culture within this hierarchical framework is literally madness. I’m not sure art has a role or a message. This is how it frees us from the hegemony of habitual patterns and traumas of thingness accelerated by digital cultures effective dissemination of pure functionality. Digital culture can be used effectively e.g. showing patterns of bowling deliveries in a test match but its rather less wholesome when defining identity. Unclasping from linguistic meaning is what art does best. This functions by leaving a vestige of the linguistic striation and offering a simultaneous nomadic freedom from...

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...