… no sentence first
i am no man.
i am no woman.
( how retrosexual )
i am a twisted pop explosion.
i do not try to be some anserous artiste.
( precautionary procurators of the present )
i do not try to be some shopping star.
( mall mart´s universal puppet rock )
i do not try to be some prospect producer.
( grazing blind cows of the bustling banal )
i do not try to be some sparkling savant.
( mere matches craving for enlightenment )
i do not try to be some religious revolutionist.
( sclerotic shadows of the status quo )
i do not try to be some servant of reality.
( indoctrinated by inanimations of the impotentia )
! i am no model machina !
my self is one elegant enlighter.
what i bring forth is to confront my self with my eksistence.
for if i don´t create my self,
i shall remain banal.
i do believe in art´s graceful grandeur.
art´s ardour arises from amazement.
devoted to her dignity,
i expose my self to her gravity.
all art is presentation of the infinite.
( thus, a thaumaturge is what i am )
i do serve my hidden empeiroress.
her majesty prevails.
she wears no veil.
( and rarely niquab )
however close, she is always unapproachable.
and when you gape at her, she gazes into you.
her name is namelessness.
my dear uncanniness.
( oh arrhêton )
i do insist to give outstanding presents.
i´m sure you know the pleasures of unwrapping.
( the charming lack of certainty )
i spoil and clothe with my cruelty,
my bounteous gifts are irreciprocable.
i do reject the ready made routines.
i try to excite the unforeseen.
( and cut the playback loop of masterpieces even faster )
it´s only by expecting the unexpectable that it shall be received.
( a rhythmic loophole – what a dangerous maybe )
my propaganda for the possible.
i do resoundingly revel the relevance of resonance.
? quid ?
! pah !
? quod ?
! pah !
thought is wonderful but adventure is more wonderful, still.
( je ne sais quoi )
my propaganda for the passible.
i do pay all my attention to the fleeting moment, pulse and breath.
? hic et nunc ?
! pah !
traffic flows tween.
( ex vestigio )
this course of transit is radically everything of life.
… coming and going …
… it asks for your response …
… and yet, reprises are inevitable.
( my tainted love )
i do cross all demarcation lines.
here–as–here ain´t here.
now–as–now ain´t now.
art–as–art ain´t art.
may i remark:
there is no rupture without rest.
( my clinamen is steep )
i do despise inference as inferior.
every thing that´s contradictory creates life.
? is life a comedy ?
? is life a tragedy ?
i do not waste time for arguments.
( it´s only the intellectually lost who ever argue )
i do no try to explain a thing.
i try to make some thing.
( the moment stories enter, boredom comes upon my self )
as pertains to the tendency to immerse one self,
for this there can be no explanatory texts.
the only thing that matters is the clash of panic.
( aliud dicitur – aliud demonstratur )
i do create and not define.
? significance ?
! pah !
the curtain has fallen on this scene.
i´m fed up with illustrations, explanations, messages, meanings, symbols and signs.
( art initiates their interruption )
definition may come after work, but the work may not adjust itself to definition.
i do prefer disclosure to discovery.
pathetic addicts, addicted to the dominant dictum of decryption,
bleating sheeps, browsing the meadows of meaning,
blind and deaf for the ineffable.
( a fool is dreaming on a tiger´s back … )
reams of readings, detecting and delivering what´s common and familiar.
( … all of a sudden a bear´s paw gently touches the poor fool´s shoulder … )
it´s no more meaning that we need but to expose our selves to its limits.
( … the fool wakes up )
i do presume that power produces all of its perspectives.
a subject only subsists through its subjection.
( power is positive, power is productive )
so, please, do not play that wistful repression tune to me again.
( it is so so out of date )
? mais la chanson de la dissension ?
all ways, all time.
( it´s the alternative chartbuster par excellence )
i do favor arriving early once instead of always being late.
! toujours–déjà–là ?
! pah !
? arrive–t–il !
( being excentric is not enough )
i do guard my foolish fantasies from the regimen of reason.
lucidity may be the foundation of awareness.
but truth will always slip away from it.
( art is a fool )
it´s reasons reason that´s regressive, it´s reasons reason that´s recessive.
reasons season is that of the delirium of production.
( recurring without reason )
! i do exclaim epibolé !
i do ensure you that the world is not in front of us.
i spurn the vampirism of vis-à-vis cosmetics.
the world is no immobile imago.
mais au contraire – she is befalling us.
( and vice versa )
beware, not what you see is art.
therefore, my work is made for diving.
( do plunge into my troubled waters )
i do wish to collocate the experience of time and space.
i don´t produce goods so to be put in a container.
( the operetta house of being )
for space is no consistent case.
thus what i try is thinking torsional.
( my torque from enclosure to exposure )
! burst the container !
… displace … deframe … derange …
space, be my palette.
i do feel confident that art does not exist to be exhibited.
art is neither here to be explained nor is it there to be exhibited.
it is a surprising technique taking place.
( art is disclosing disposition )
( art is enacting exposition )
( art is setting in position )
without exposure meaning had no sense.
it is the possibility of meaning.
( it´s poetry in haptic interspace )
no spectators, no spectacle.
art is areal.
i do ask my self what art may have to offer us these days.
? and who is this `us´ ?
? maybe manifold many – not numerous nones ?
? perhaps a community without meaning ?
? a bare being with each other ?
( ego sum = ego cum )
my self one uni-cum …
i do accept that communication is improbable.
but if communication does take place,
communicants may overcome their separation for one vital moment.
( becoming satellites in a surprising system )
it´s not communication that makes art.
it is the impaction of contact.
( my self will only organise the detonation )
i do believe that indifference is our major matter.
we dwell in times of apathy.
a life in indifferent equivalence.
( cool, calm and collective )
but indifference is by no means cold.
it´s like a fire that inflames that what is inflammable.
to play with it is all that´s left,
and meet the difference this will make.
( all else would be hypocrisy )
blaze walk with us.
i do surmise that democracy exists in divergence from factual reality.
by merely treating it as present property we fail to meet its adventurous arriving.
? what is the posture of the political when meanings meet their being meaningless ?
equality will never be allowed by laws or institutions.
( the other side of democracy is discipline )
there´s no such thing as a machine of liberation.
( a choice can´t be elected )
democracy only exists as practice of the possible.
i do regard the national point of view as out of question.
? l´état ?
! fi donc !
of all gelid ghouls it is the gelidst – and gelid are his lies.
no human being can be interested in the regional.
except on holidays.
( i do say hén kaì pân )
i do want to become living money.
the anticipative whore,
the predictive pimp of men and women.
( the superstar in world show busyness )
! i want to be one too !
i´m a stream of capital within a market space of singularities.
( a scarce source of sensations as well )
so let my precious self dissolve and become money.
henceforth no more brains shall bespatter walls and streets again.
let my crisis be your credit.
( for i shall pay with my elusion )
i do carry my fire to the shallowest valleys.
it´s said perturbations do help a self organised system to find more stable states,
thus, noise will in general increase fitness.
the stronger the noise, the more the system will be able to escape its shallow valleys.
attaining a valley that´s superior.
i can assure you,
it is much warmer on the heights as those in the valleys would suppose.
( especially in winter )
i do abjure the cult of usefulness.
the monoculture of utility is signified by streamlines and sterilities.
art sets aside the symbols of utility to set us face to face with actuality it self.
( and not just face to face, but like a wavelet in the sea )
the sure way of knowing nothing about life is to try to make one self useful.
i do care about the interloops of production and creation.
if production was the process that let some thing arise from some thing other,
( transforming streams )
and creation that which arose ex nihilo,
( new forms brought into being )
then art might be creation.
however, art as well produces things and enters thus the course of streams.
yet, every time art primiparously creates sense.
therefore, production and creation cross each other, intertwine.
( twist me twilight )
i do believe that truth entirely exists as act.
it´s nothing but a moral prejudice that there is truth without appearance.
( truth is revealing )
( truth is concealing )
it is the aim of art to reveal itself.
( in actu )
and to conceal the artist.
( in situ )
i do reject conventional concerns of morals.
? good vs evil ?
! pah !
my self prefers lossless compressions.
the morals of monotone duality cause nothing but consensual catastrophe.
( the one who wants to be an angel becomes a savage animal )
in art good intentions are of no value – all bad art is the result of good intentions.
art´s aim is no more to give pleasure than to give pain.
i do disdain the drabness of duality.
it´s language that underlies the operation of duality – of binary calculi.
( … male vs female … body vs soul … )
it´s not that language distorts prelingual reality,
it´s all but a displacement of the primal root.
in fact, it is the primer.
that´s why we have to stutter.
( don´t be no duck )
i do believe that soul and body are different and one.
body and soul – that is – intensity and form.
( formation of intensity and intensification of form )
in fact, they are one word.
( a twisted knot )
a word that has been separated,
to show it can be interpreted in two contrastive manners.
thus soul is nothing but the experience of body.
i do take no great interest in psychological intentions.
? to explain a flower from the dung ?
! pah !
croît sans raison.
the pleasing, petty, picturesque psychology of familiar feelings.
( hey, have some fun and lose your self – as long as you recover )
heydays are gone.
just dump her.
`i´ – that is the place of the encounter.
i do avoid the onedimensional cul de sacs of pensée unique.
cities have much more to offer than roundabouts and one way streets.
( city as prey, that is to say )
therefore i prefer to take adaptive walks on the wild side.
and – you may agree – there is a certain point, from which one never will return.
( this point has to be reached )
i do agree that trees endangered by a storm do never break but merely bend.
it´s not the bending that does matter.
it is the breaking.
as where there´s danger grows that which saves.
( smooth ice is paradise for those who dance with ingenuity )
i do talk with fireworks and thunder to your slack and sleeping senses.
every thing that´s popular is wrong.
hence art should never try to be popular.
instead the people should try to make their selves artistic.
and so much more important than making art is how to make it.
( praxis proceeds poiesis )
i do strive for my compatible complices – no bystanders, spectators, listeners.
there are only two things of importance in this world.
the one is love, the other art.
and what i do is not for masturbation,
( the lonesome lust )
but for collective orgasm.
( the col cahoot )
i wish no praise, no plaudits, no reproach.
i do prefer playing with pleasure to struggling with sobriety.
my self invents no thing …
… as it´s all there.
( oui, oui, oui, oui )
merely a play, thus is the universe.
a play without a why.
it plays while it is playing.
( sometimes i intervene with my aplomb )
i do solicit you to feel sympathy for my maimed mind.
take up a stance on your eksistence …
… and take the sub away from substance.
abandon attributes …
… adopt your attitude.
( be polymorph pervert )
and hurry – as we´re pinched for time.
i do love compliments.
people love to give joy by praising.
( be my bisseurs )
i would sadden them if i did not take pleasure in their praise.
and to the happy few:
bisou to you.
i do assure you that my word has to be tenebrous.
i´m not a teacher – just a turbulent attractor,
one twinkling question mark beside your premature assumptions.
( larvatus prodeo )
do never trust the teller.
tryst the tale.
( bête )