Paul Klee

visit the Kunsthalle for a Paul Klee exhibition. find this on the wall, along with all the Klee objects, many of them from his teaching time at the Bauhaus. I had forgotten that he was there along with all those other intensities of life.

black gate because the marketable commodity art object is disintegrating under the energy of Light black gate because museums and galleries are sterile advertising factories black gate because we are the primitives of the space age black gate because space is a fluid concept black gate toward Light as a social totality the concept of art has disappeared the energy of Light is giving birth the octopus spreads in many directions under one core to Light as the new embryo giving birth to black

— aldo tambellini, black gate?

transformative reactions

arrive the night before Valentine’s Day in Kiel following the first European workshop of the Second Nomadic Phase. if things proceed like this all the time, there is no going back to the core of Empire, in retro vision, it is too corrupt. is this too simplistic a diagnosis? maybe, but the energy flow patterns in that set of structures is … oh hell, can’t describe it, it’s just a bunch of abstracted words.

anyway, Christian brings Steffi flowers last night. Valentine’s Day. I bring some Lübecker marzipan.

yeah, reflecting back on the two weeks, I had forgotten how powerful dialogues can be when there are engaged individuals at both ends. the system in Boulder exerts such a high degree of psychic pressure on the students (and faculty) that the conditions for humane dialogue are almost impossible to achieve. they need some breathing space of chaos — or some a root ground that feeds any contingency of flow. if the degree of insistent social flow-framework is too rigid, then there is no possibility of inspiring breath. and there is suffocation. embedded in the situation at ISNM is, for now, a degree of chaos that is not particularly uncomfortable, but it is at least available.

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. — Karl Jung, hanging in Frieder and Susi’s kitchen

models

space, time and again the accuracy of a model to circumscribe the actual experience is a measure of the model’s validity. as the individual dialogues proceed here at ISNM, their intensity and energized proceeding illustrate the ideas.

pull-buoys

gotta laugh. swimming a quick 1500m this evening at the Central Pool, not far from my flat. the entrance fee drops to half-price at 19:15, so there is a small line to get in. I find yet another set of protocols for social interaction in the water. the lifeguard is friendly enough to hunt down a pair of pull-buoys for me (in German I ask him what they are called — he replies “pull-boys”). close enough.

unlike other public swimming places in Finland, Iceland, and the US, this pool has no lane markers out at all. seeing this, I ask the guard how it works. “you swim where you find a space,” is the reply. it is a thrashing swarm of breast-strokers with flailing, frog-kicking legs. apparently the fast swimmers work out elsewhere. so, it is a challenge to keep going, given the necessity of weaving rapidly between scything legs and head-on collisions. flip turns are risky, but I maintain my concentration out of sheer desperation to get a through a work-out after more than a week off.

rotless jottings

verily on the road. in the sky, between earth and heavens. and with an inertia far above the normative baseline (of tethered being). perhaps pivotal in locative presence. with the strange old dilemma of Europe beckoning, offering cultural and intellectual stimulation, and jobs; the US only to be inhabited with a begging bowl or throat-cutting PR tactics. and this highly incidental and mercenary gibberish of law, politic, militarism, and market. but the spaciousness of the land, it’s enveloping and readable sky (sky slowly dying in down-wind Los Angeles and coal-fired über-powerplant and endless wide-fogging sky-worms). vegetation that is sensible, and sensuous, full of necessity.

so. anyway, officially this space again becomes a travelog. once I called it rotless jottings, tagging a label on the notebook entries that fit face-to-face in closed books in a locked trunk somewhere, sometime. because otherwise, these notes still dance around the voice of the void. not the voice inside, but an external expression that is stiff and formal with social conformity. not yet freed from the externally measured usage. the development of voice, so often spoken about by writers, must be a unique and very much internal coming-to-know process. nothing frugal or ascetic, but rich, debauched, and psychic. transient as any heightened state of being. sustainable only with tremendous self-discipline or complete abstention from reasoned living. so, what path is this, developing in the time of … war?

flows of strangers surround, carry, float the senses in a proto-typical field of mellow drama (“gripping meller drammer,” my father would say, transiting the teevee room) and bland media platitudes.

but, hallo, where am I? elsewhere. another airport again, a new-ish feeling, not fitting, but fossilized in mind. an homage to Bedouin. past flickering lives, partially transparent bodies that echo histories and occasionally abundant futures.

what did you say?

whiskers grow…

roads opening before me

on the cusp, of the wide open space of nomadic drift. expectations of difference and sameness. generating axioms of limitless motion, movement.

Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe
The enemy increaseth every day;
We at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves
Or lose our ventures.

— Brutus, as quoted by Samuel Huntington in The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order

Cleveland Hopkins 1910 – 2003

Dad passes this evening. after this long struggle, and a long life. code blue, Janet calls, racing into the hospital. Nancy and Mom there, holding his hands. His heart couldn’t bear more time here. I am just home from school, exhausted. Stop what I am doing, and concentrate on a slender thread of consciousness. Light some incense. Crumble some sage harvested for just this purpose from the depths of Sand Canyon off the Yampa, press it deep into the palms, smelling the released sweetness. Burn some, the smoke mixing with the incense. An intuitive impulse says “write the time now.” on a 3×5 card, I write the time, 6:52. A call comes ten minutes later, he has passed. As birth is the surfacing, death is the submerging of soul back into its own, its transitory place. time shivers, small waves move outward, and the bardo of passing opens. Unmeasured intuition and connection. Still small voices, suspension of the material presence.
more “Cleveland Hopkins 1910 – 2003”

Leary

In planning a session, the first question to be decided is “what is the goal?” Classic Hinduism suggest four possibilities:

  • 1. For increased personal power, intellectual understanding, sharpened insight into self and culture, improvement of life situation, accelerated learning, professional growth.
  • 2. For duty, help of others, providing care, rehabilitation, rebirth for fellow men.
  • 3. For fun, sensuous enjoyment, aesthetic pleasure, interpersonal closeness, pure experience.
  • 4. For transcendence, liberation from ego and space-time limits; attainment of mystical union.

…snip…

Instructions for Vision 4: The Wave-Vibration Structure of External Forms (Eyes open, rapt involvement with the external visual stimuli, intellectual aspects)

O nobly born, listen carefully:
At this point you can become aware of the wave structure of the world around you.
Everything you see dissolves into energy vibrations.
Look closely and you will tune in on the electric dance of energy.
There are no longer things and persons but only the direct flow of particles.
Consciousness will now leave your body and flow into the stream of wave rhythm.
There is no need for talk or action.
Let your brain become a receiving set for the radiance.
All interpretations are the products of your own mind.
Dispel them. Have no fear.
Exult in the natural power of your own brain,
The wisdom of your own electricity.
Abide in the state of quietude.
As the three-dimensional world fragments, you may feel panic;
You may beget a fondness for the heavy dull world of objects you are leaving.
At this time, fear not the transparent, radiant, dazzling wave energy.
Allow your intellect to rest.
Fear not the hook-rays of the light of life,
The basic structure of matter,
The basic form of wave communication.
Watch quietly and receive the message.
You will now experience directly the revelation of primal forms.

— Timothy Leary, Ph.D., Ralph Metzner, Ph.D., & Richard Alpert, Ph.D. The Psychedelic Experience

Ah well, stumbled on that, following a thread from Aldous Huxley. As for the effort to shift awareness from a dominantly materialist point-of-view to one that has a central locus on an energized movement: I just had the realization that I probably will not ever produce a text-based representation circumscribing the territory of my own worldview. [ed: well, fast-forward to 2013 and my dissertation!] And unless in a situation where there can be an unfolding of the thoughts, in concert with an Other, there will be no revelation, no representation. Only action, doing, facilitating, and teaching. The 2126 class moves fast and with gusto. A deep difference with the spring class, where students seemed tight, fearful, and distracted. Just war? or, hmmmm, does it confirm or refute my theory that much education is about saturating individual, forming humans in a certain fear of non-conforming, while in-validating divergent behaviors and thoughts. How come I resist letting my child be wild?

earth-sky convergences

canyon face in there. juniper there, grass, cedar, sage, rock, rock face. having a gravity. yesterday taking another side slot-canyon, up and up to gain the bench-top over-looking the campground. find two un-matched halves, elk antlers, 7-points each, so, 14-point animals. one almost as tall as Loki. after seeing the bighorn sheep kill earlier in the day, lower jaw crushed, nose chewed away. the mountain lions have things pretty good, except for the constant interference of humans into their wide-patterned space. Loki playing in the dirt. part of the time, this seems problematic, the play seems to be generated from a vacant boredom that I can’t fill, nor would really choose to, other times, it seems to be holy. god-inspired, god-directed, god-sanctioned play that is of evolution-leaping intensity compared to the Game-Boy. what a stupid vapid name for an object devoid of any redeeming spiritual value. a generation of gamers swallowing simulations, and the entertained. faugh, what will come of that? everything is boring. speed is fun. simulation is way better than the real thing. not sure that this auto-adapter is running right. worked on the plane, but now, not able to concentrate anyway, on anything, too stressed about being a dull parent. maybe starting to count days until this phase is over. but next week back to school. teaching again. reading Lemke’s draft of a concept of “traversals” — recalling a flash of text that dropped into one of the Solstice videos that I made in Iceland. traverse no zenith. so it goes. battery runs low. no satellite uplink anyway, so bloggish reflections are useless. darkness falls. I will sleep on the ground tonight, and hope for the best. something nervous, but not for any good reason. with towering face of sandstone leaping to converge with rotating Milky Way.

missing things

already leaving after a very short visit with Aunt Mary and Janet. a nice break. back to this temporary base in Boulder for the next 6 months. surely find that travel is more difficult with this long hiatus. a hiatus that is longer with fewer miles, fewer kilometers than almost ever previously in life. and nothing to say here about the no-see-ums, the retirement community of Shell Point, the sun, the clouds, storms, rain, vegetation, birds, stores. no travel documentation or review. no engagement?

Loki at least gets into it, though I affect his enjoyment with my reserve.

clear that a full-bodied text is necessary. one that posits and shares my worldview, a transcript of lectures made, fleshed out with further commentary, reflected, filtered, and packaging the energy that is danced around. it needs to be generated, but how to make that text when I don’t want it to be linked directly to the generations of previous texts. it needs to spring from direct experience. how?

and what to make the armature? academic discourse, performative speaking, hypertextual juggling? conversation? dialogue? the dialogue technique doesn’t seem to address the social volume necessary. and volume is what I need now to maintain social viability. speaking to many rather than one or two. though it is against the principle of the teaching. still don’t have a good feel for mapping this extended social space of praxis.

proto definitions

The end of this year approaches. I jot down some definitions for class:

Proto definitions:

digital art — artifacts/performances enabled by a digital device

(computer)net art — art(ifacts?) on the net (what’s the net?) Internet? Any network?

web art — specific art(ifact?) for viewing on the WWW (and possibly interacting with that remote dataspace)

networking art — art activities that take advantage of, or use the concepts of, (human/technological) networks; use of those spaces for active expression (creation of spaces for others to create in). the network which is an extension of the socialized being

mediation — the act of standing between; a carrier; that which carries from one to the other. a bridge across/through the sensual world standing between the Self and the Other

media art — artifacts created via (traditional, analog) media devices

multimedia — more than one media

Keeping to several centers, not comatose in any of their distributed flows. Understand that now the up-springing source for the publicly “creative” work is something of a distortion created in the fabric of childhood (listen good parents) — that reverberates in the fractured pattern of shot-gun-fire in a rock canyon, each present de-formation of being expressed across the local social matrix is a hard surface that often will reflect and repel energy of any kind. The curling whine of ricochet as peeled-sheath bullet changes trajectory and spins to a sonic resonance within ear.

Carillion article

for the record, as the university (of Colorado) no longer publishes nor maintains the archive of this magazine, this is the text of an article done by a CU J-School graduate student, Nicole Gordon.

Visiting artist John Hopkins explores relationship between art and technology

After twelve years of living and lecturing in Europe, digital artist John Hopkins is back in the United States. He’s no stranger to the University of Colorado at Boulder; in fact, he earned his master of fine arts degree from CU-Boulder in 1989. These days, however, Hopkins has returned to campus as a visiting artist rather than a student.

“I’ve always had a deep connection to the physical landscape of the West, and intellectually I find Europe stimulating,” Hopkins said. “I’ve attempted to have both, though in the end, physical location is not always important. What is of primary importance is surrounding oneself with humane and positive people — then anything is possible.”

Hopkins’ interest lies at the intersection of art and technology. He describes his work as “art that is not artifact-oriented, but delves into the unique communicative aspects of global networks.”

“John Hopkins has a long-standing commitment to the art network,” said Jim Johnson, interim chair of the Fine Arts Department. “He brings to the department a dedication to art as an ephemeral human process and his work in the digital community has been a natural outgrowth of that dedication. He has inspired numerous art students to pursue art in the real context of one-to-one communication as opposed to the conventional and isolated production of precious objects.”

Hopkins has been a professional artist since 1985. His career has taken him to Iceland, Finland, Norway, Russia, Switzerland, Germany, Estonia, Latvia, Hungary, and Austria as a visiting artist or guest lecturer. His art has been recognized at the prestigious Ars Electronica Festival in Linz, Austria and he has works in numerous private and public collections, including the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris and the Museum of Modern Art Library in New York City.

At CU-Boulder, Hopkins is teaching introductory and advanced digital art classes, as well as working on individual projects with students and doing international performances.

One of his most recent projects at CU-Boulder, in collaboration with students, is a live, online open-platform happening for creative expression and action called di>fusion. The project, which can be experienced at https://neoscenes.net/projects/difusion1/, simultaneously occupies global network spaces and local physical space with collaborative performance, sonic, music, disc- and video-jockeys, text, poetry-slam, and video events.

“I have done similar projects with students across Europe,” Hopkins said. “And indeed, projects like di>fusion are only partially geographically grounded. Much of the project happens in the space of networks, so there are participants and audiences in many locations.”

Hopkins studied geophysical engineering at the Colorado School of Mines as an undergraduate and worked as a geophysicist before pursuing his art career. He says that art and science aren’t so far apart.

“I worked with electromagnetic fields in geophysics, and I’m basically doing the same in art,” he said.

After receiving his art degree, Hopkins found that the European cultural scene suited his ambitions.

“During the decade of the 90s, while the United States was heavily involved in the dot.com bubble inflation and bursting, there were others in other locations who were looking more critically at technological innovation and the rise of global networks,” he said. “These critical views were often coming out of creative cultural research in Europe.”

Hopkins also noted that funding for arts and culture in Europe is much greater than in the United States.

“There have been many opportunities to get funding for creative projects that could never be realized in the U.S.,” he said. “Scandinavia is generally more advanced than the U.S. in terms of technological implementations society-wide, so naturally there were many interesting things happening on the cultural side related to technology.”

An experienced teacher, Hopkins says that he is committed to the dynamics of the learning environment as a critical and important facet of his work.

“I seek to create vital learning spaces — conceptual and physical zones where the exercise of free expression and spontaneous dialogue take place,” he said.

Examples of Hopkins’ work and more information about him can be accessed on his personal Web site at https://neoscenes.net.

en-souled life & long-lost lack

back again. this place. and what it measures in the bodily en-souled life-ness. trekking to new spaces within the grand scaled confluence. looking, remembering, finding new places, small places within large spaces. human nature. ground turning turning under stars of immediate motion and a vastly Lightful moon on a balanced equinox time scale. Green River now brown with rain-spawned silt, cold from venting from the Flaming Gorge dam upstream, that and winter-coming snows already falling at head-water regions above 9000 feet.

no mention of the Other events, too unworkable to go with. and keeping with a long-lost lack of presence. stress of, and such.

mapping transitions

almost a month later. in the middle of a conference. mapping transitions. academic discourse. so. stream notes. what do pictues want? god is an artist. reductions (models, models, models, built on each other, intertwined. biocybernetics. science/technology making bio-sciences possible. cloning and computers. extended sense. political economy that runs the world. world of computer station, tangled wires. cybernetics: the steersman. kybernaut. writing as control system. not law, but the actual technologic/semiotic (phonetic) tools. (code writers). conflict of visual orgy and at the time of triumph of the digital (logos). analogical arguments. (dominant). terminator of liquid metal. ultimate simulator. academicians desperately searching for a label. an interpretive system to decode what the hell is going on. building a new model with old embedded pieces which have no inherent difference in structural predicate. sa-mo, sa-mo. formative paradigms are old. 1) copy original 2) artist and work (subject:object) 3) temporality (remember Virilio, huh?) 4) time of gain. uniqueness. copy has more aura than original.

enhancements of amplification (reproduction): are they qualitative improvements? reproductive cloning — an improvement?

actual and mediated. (electronic media is given a certain status of unprecedented power.) “new media.” participates in “massaged” production. mechanistic view. the aesthetics of digital media? (what about defining what the hell “digital media” is? (instead of defining it’s “fit” into the hegemonic/dominant worldview). hybrid aesthetics? why not just toss it out…? simulation. materialistic presence. current, seeking closure in the circuit. remix, unlocking input and output authenticity. (digital images and digital culture and rituals of new media). new vs traditional: imitations. virtuality. ontological status. proper character. procedural, conceptual (don’t fit…). anti-materialist. (medium is not the point). thesis-antithesis. we’re not allowed to make progress? hierarchies of form. perfection of expression. useful ways to talk about objects. (and subject experience). taste. rational cultivation. descriptive systems assume static forms of … aesthetics of change. mechanistic production. potential literature. procedural methods. with certain sensibilities. floods of wards. static bodies in space. reading texts. monolithic and reified forms of presentation. (any tweaking of of meta shakes the whole tree, gimme a chain saw). key forms of reference — generative: Pannini, Turing, Babbage, procedural, Stockhausen, and so on. iterative. new objects. rethink premises of knowledge production. aesthetics is about awareness. (iterative), step beyond — in flux. two feet in the mechanistic…

swarming

taking quantum to its conclusion — points to a movement from product to process to practice — (Saskia Sassen — the “meaning” of the activities in the digital sphere is the total accumulation of all practices that take place in that space … MAKE THE LEAP…

anthropological centrism. mapping transitions. (remembering the new world order is a limited access, top of a hierarchical high). indigenous technology. Inuit Broadcast Corporation. media-maintenance. next5minutes comes up, tactical media. good topic.

reproduction (gathering and redistribution of original energized event creates a pseudo-powerful illusion, but this is purely illusion based on the hegemonic (and static) position of the “reproducer” within an implied “global” order … the photograph in the world order (re-radiated Light from the self.) … some forms of hypertext with image are nice, but. just ’cause it’s horizontal?

Anyone who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees anyone whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den. — Plato’s Cave

caves, CAVES, and caves. technocracy. aristocracy of technology. networks of expensive, institution-oriented situations, (isolated from the Light, Light re-amplified, reflected, refracted, energized). “gotta have content.” flippant sycophant, mouthpiece of the complex. access. high-end polarity. slick-packaged technological. famous last words. manipulation and collaborative interaction. glib passing over any moral embeddedness of the power structure. fair use. attitudes of use.

united we stand

half-way through. another year. slipping through the anterior and nether spaces of family. make a cursory foray into town with Marianne, after the parade (with the theme “united we stand”) was over and before the street dancing commenced. a Guinness on Whiskey Row, right there on Courthouse Square, and then a pizza.

creeping jingo-ism. many television programs about police and military training and tactics. guns. at the garage I pick up a copy of American Rifleman, the house blotter for the NRA. Charlton Heston is an asshole. and what was that song “Pablo Picasso was never called an ‘asshole'” (written by Jonathan Richman and performed by the The Modern Lovers). From the soundtrack of Repo Man, the cassette tape of which disappeared during a party I hosted for my intro photo students at the old Mapleton house back in grad school. at CU-Boulder. and I circle back, closely, to that point again. soon. fifteen years later.

until family trauma strikes (soonly or later-like).

Iceland Day

Iceland Day. when the Icelanders brave cold wet weather and mingle on the streets.

Sogpal Rimpoche reminds and reminds and reminds. leaving nothing unclear. language suggesting practice. the hints are everywhere, and always elusive. rabbits in the 20×40 foot grass yard, they are starving for the drought. and, at the same time, an expert reminds Westerners that the word drought is not applicable to a place technically defined as a desert. it’s always dry here, and to have a lawn is an alien fragment of bourgeoisie command-and-control of an environment that will win out eventually. the rabbits, gophers, deer, the occasional javelina all love to feast on green garden delicacies, imported gently from New England and Old. while young hopeless and having no future Palestinians rip self and others apart. shreds. what is the statistic? in 5 years there will be 600 million young Islamic males between 18-25? don’t quote me on that. think that’s what passed the eyes. somewhere in the fragmented media flow partaken of.

meanwhile, thumbing seven years of travelog nose at the new wave of bloggers. they seem to think that personal logs of life-notes are somehow a distinct innovation. telling stories from the road, from life, in networked spaces. at the same time, lamenting my own inability to innovate my own network space quicker. often speaking about network presence with students, but aside from the anomalous remote communications regime operating for the last 20-odd years, what is there?

air-conditioning

long exhausting day in the belly of the health-care sector. pre-operative testing for Dad. bad air, bad organization, bad system. surfaced the heavy body impact of air-conditioning. humans in Phoenix live a majority of their summer lives in artificial atmospheres. moving from air-conditioned to air-conditioned space like they were on Mars or something, airlocks and everything. can’t stand it. when it’s 115F (45C) outside, and 70F (18C) inside, the body reels from thermal shock every time.

The ways in which air-conditioners work to “clean” the air can inadvertently cause health problems, too. One such way is with the use of an electrostatic precipitator, which removes dust and smoke particles from the air. What precipitators also do, however, is emit large quantities of positive air ions into the ventilation system. A growing number of studies show that overexposure to positive air ions can result in headaches, fatigue and feelings of irritation.

Large air-conditioning systems add water to the air they circulate by means of humidifiers. In older systems, the water used for this process is kept in special reservoirs, the bottoms of which provide breeding grounds for bacteria and fungi which can find their way into the ventilation system. The risk to human health from this situation has been highlighted by the fact that the immune systems of approximately half of workers in air-conditioned office buildings have developed antibodies to fight off the organisms found at the bottom of system reservoirs. Chemical disinfectants, called “biocides”, that are added to reservoirs to make them germ-free, are dangerous in their own right in sufficient quantities, as they often contain compounds such as pentachlorophenol, which is strongly linked to abdominal cancers. Finally, it should be pointed out that the artificial climatic environment created by air-conditioners can also adversely affect us. In a natural environment, whether indoor or outdoor, there are small variations in temperature and humidity. Indeed, the human body has long been accustomed to these normal changes. In an air-conditioned living or work environment, however, body temperatures remain well under 37C, our normal temperature. This leads to a weakened immune system and thus greater susceptibility to diseases such as colds and flu.

desert moon

another place.

The wind will not stop. Gusts of sand swirl before me, stinging my face. But there is still too much to see and marvel at, the world very much alive in the bright Light and wind, exultant with the fever of spring, the deLight of morning.

Strolling on, it seems to me that the strangeness and wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert, by the comparative sparsity of the flora and fauna: life not crowded upon life as in other places but scattered abroad in spareness and simplicity, with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree, each stem of grass, so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock. The extreme clarity of the desert Light is equaled by the extreme individuation of desert life forms.

Love flowers best in openness and freedom.

***

Dehydration: the desert air sucks moisture from every pore. I take a drink from the canvas water-bag dangling near my head, the water cooled by evaporation. Noontime here is like a drug. The Light is psychedelic, the dry electric air narcotic. To me the desert is stimulating, exciting, exacting; I feel no temptation to sleep or to relax into occult dreams but rather the opposite effect which sharpens and heightens vision, touch, hearing, taste and smell. Each stone, each plant, each grain of sand exists in and for itself with a clarity that is undimmed by any suggestion of a different realm. Claritas, integritas, veritas. Only the sunLight holds things together. Noon is the crucial hour: the desert reveals itself nakedly and cruelly, with no meaning but its own existence. — Edward Abbey

Abbey, E., 1971. Desert solitaire: a season in the wilderness, New York: Ballantine Books.

I couldn’t understand it

my primary work when one calls it that, is the work in fundamental critique of the (meta)structure(s) that we are embedded in, in this sensual reality. it is not about the exigencies of work. It is mounted not in opposition, but in simple meeting-along-the-road. confronting that which manifests in the daily movement of life in life.

and I am astonished to discover that some of my students can’t read basic texts without simply quitting and saying “that was a terrible paper, I couldn’t understand it.”

I was WAY TOO EASY on the students I had this term. just not wanting to push them too hard. and that seems a big mistake. that they do not positively thrive on taking reign of their own progress, education, and enLightenment. not near rigorous enough. no toughness. but do they really need it? is this a condition? is it related to the social structure in which they are immersed? one where many of the human relations are mapped into incredibly convoluted and warped pathways. being graded. a scientific method, and a supreme lack of genuine dialogues. balanced flows. but is it worth it to try to change those flows? there are the hints of value. bright value, value that will float above knowledge, be a Lightness in life, perhaps. but the risk and inertia to overcome seems irresistible.

I mean, who IS the prophet in this time? Lennon has passed, Coltrane, Davis, Marley, and a hundred others, from all places and ways. but all on the same pathway. is it inside of time or outside? if not inside, then it is everywhere perhaps, or concentrated in one place. concentrations raw enough for the human to sense. and delve into. that we are not able to see the scale of all.

make assignments — for example, journal entries, no less than 40 entries with no spelling errors during the semester. ouch. but they need the discipline side. in Master Printing, I had the manifest tools, process available. with the computer, and the network, more difficult to pinpoint the tool and the process. but the practice, the living praxis, is the core/key.

for example — present the Apple iTunes screen “visual” algorithm. what is the politic of that? who made it? is that person an artist? basic questions to get things started. but on to harder ones. yeah, like pick an inspiring web space and describe why, in 500 words, it moves you. as a journal entry. with no spelling errors.

back home?

back in Boulder. and this is the last day of this travelog for a time. because time started to end and began ending immediately. becoming over faster and faster, keeping its pictures and words close-tied to the clouds that were hanging over me on this pasting, lasting day. end of it all or all of it. that words floated ever to this space.

here, it is days into the next month. and so it goes.

wet snow uphill

convivial dinner with Chris and Scharmin and the kids this evening, don’t know where I’d be without them around, an anchor to real life. and then, despite Scharmin’s insisting on Chris giving me a ride, a cycle home in the beginnings of a big snowstorm, a slog up Baseline. feeling good to be tussling with the elemental beings. even at this simple level.

but otherwise, the month ends. in the hearts of space. nothing profound, but Venus begins to hang as the evening star; vague memories of a time earlier in these wanderings when Venus guided many steps.

Edith Bates MacKenzie 1924 – 2002

Aunt Edie passes away this morning at 10:05. She was suffering a lot in the last months, bed-ridden, since she fell and broke her hip in late last summer. She entered the Kingdom that she so faithfully kept her eyes upon during her life. She was an inspiration to many in my extended family, especially the kids. She took great pains to give each and every one maximum attention while at the same time she whipped up incredible and delicious meals. The contents of her toy closet were known to all of us. She will be laid to rest on Antelope Hill near Prescott Valley. She has passed through the hall of brightness and entered into the realm of Light. Give thanks, Jah, Rastafari. There is a small lake with flowers, water lilies, brilliant white and pink. Clouds drift in reflection in the sky, dissipate slowly, melting into the blue-white. there is no sun, but only Light suffused everywhere, coming from all. She is restored.

Crescent moon, passed by Saturn, leaping ahead, waxing.

Aunt Edie and niece Jill, in Acadia National Park, June ©1974 AKM.
Aunt Edie and niece Jill, in Acadia National Park, June ©1974 AKM.

Mrs. Edith Bates MacKenzie, 77; of Prescott Heights went to be with the Lord on Thursday, Feb. 21, 2002, from the Prescott Samaritan Village in Prescott.

She is survived by Alfred, her loving husband of 57 years; by her younger sister, Gladys Plotner, of Tucson; 15 nieces and nephews, 16 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. She will be mourned by many friends and their children, including missionary friends.

Edith was born in Philadelphia on June 7, 1924, to William and Florence Bates. When she was a toddler, her parents took her to the Tanzania region of Africa for a nine-year stint of missionary work. The family returned to Philadelphia in 1936 and moved to Boston in 1940, where she met her husband-to-be. After finishing high school in Boston, she attended Wheaton College in Illinois.

Edith married Alfred MacKenzie on June 22, 1944. The next 39 years were spent in homemaking and numerous missions-oriented activities at downtown Boston’s Park Street Church. At vacation times and many weekends, the targets were the mountains of New Hampshire, Maine and Mount Desert Island with its rocky seacoast. On special occasions, trips were made to the canyons and mountains of the West. Edith has climbed both Longs Peak and Mt. Elbert.

When retirement time came, the family moved to Prescott. Edith and her husband spent time camping, photographing and exploring the geological beauties of the West. In between times they were active members of the Prescott Heights Church.

Graveside services will be held at the Redwood Memorial Gardens on Saturday, March 2, at 2 PM. In lieu of flowers, it is suggested that gifts be made to the Prescott Heights Church Building Fund, 700 Rosser St., Prescott AZ 86301. Memory Chapel assisted the family with the arrangements.

Aunt Edie in Little Wild Horse Canyon, San Rafael Swell, Utah, May ©1992 AKM.
Aunt Edie in Little Wild Horse Canyon, San Rafael Swell, Utah, May ©1992 AKM.

Snorri

networking for survival. looking to rise to the surface. but when it is the Word that still is the over-arching superstructure of the matrix, and it is that very word that is anathema. antithesis. how can it come to be. axe-wielder. Snorri struck down at the thermal pool, from behind, a swift stroke leaving him bleeding into the warm waters, flushing life-water into earth water, mixing Odin’s tears with the sharp stinging excreta of the forge that made Thor’s hammer. all the words on paper did not predict this moment.

the vitality of the country is not linked to the government at all. those who govern do so only of themselves and for other vain matters. the people come and go their ways, and from random collision comes many things. is it different than Europe? there is one mistake that Amurikans make: assuming some kind of homogeneity rules the rest of the world. as there is the media feed. Europe is 350 million anglo white people. bad approximation. it’s slipping by. going it’s own way. as the rest of the world. goes, in circles, in spirals, in the ether between the stars. it’s still there.

but the measure of flows that move us through our be-ing here now cannot be made. if we try to document, we are lost from the moment, not reflecting the brilliance of that revealing of presence in the present.

but is all of this talk, this writing here, these lectures, these speakings, of no value. what-so-ever. oh gee. what then? and anyway, here I cannot write anymore as a travelog. because my motion is only between close-spaced points, and I move by the strength of my own body most of the time. maybe once a week in a car, but otherwise, on a bike. microscopic travels, or maybe mediated travels. there has been a massive increase in email volume. but dislocation has ceased for the time.

stopover

meet Atle in the afternoon, walk through the Høstutstilling, have a beer in the cafe there, letting the conversation travel through the space of shared experience. and the town is full of football fans from the two teams fighting for the national championship. in this cafe I have met Janine, Hilde, Kristin, Kenneth, and now Atle. strange how it is still such a cultural attractor for the Norwegians. obviously a profound and central expression of the cultural life of a nation-state. later I wander into a game shop and watch as a Dane instructs a passel of your Norwegians in the finer points of the LOTR battle game.

kyykkä

the carefully tended dirt field, sitting between the Joensuu Technical center where the University Media Department is located, and the new track-and-field center is the scene of changing activities. when I first arrived in September, there was kids football (soccer) matches happening in the afternoon and Saturday mornings. then, one Saturday, there appeared a large group of 30-to-50-something men playing what I would term a Finnish variety of lawn bowling. suited to the available materials, the game pieces consisted of 12 or 14 solid wooden cylinders about 14 cm high and 7cm in diameter, painted orange-red, and two perfectly cylindrical bats (unlike a US baseball bat), each with a smaller diameter end for grasping, and the rest about 8-10 cm in diameter, and maybe 80 cm long. the small pieces were set up, stacked two-high in a line, spaced about 20 cm apart, at one end of the playing field. each player then took turns flinging the wooden bat at the line from a distance of about 20 meters. the object, like bowling, was to knock down as many of the pins as possible. I gave Sanna a call to see if she knew what it was. she didn’t, but called me back later after researching it. turns out the game is called kyykkä. it’s an old Carelian sport that is not commonly played or even known anymore. anyway, that game appeared only once (check out https://www.kyykka.com/ for the full scenario, Finnish only, sorry) and now half the field has been taken over by the installation of two hockey rinks. waiting for the chill. there is an outdoor rink not far away with refrigeration pipes, that was fired up two weeks ago, and there are daily hockey workouts and figure-skating classes held in the middle of a pine forest, near the indoor swimming pool.

public works are apparently locally organized, possibly with some EU support, as this is literally a fringe region. there is the Technology Center, also EU funded, the location of the Media College‘s facility along with tens of small technology companies, the local University Biology Department, and state-of-the-art media (digital teevee and audio) production studios, Cadimef.

yet over all this, repeated in medium-to-large towns across Finland, there doesn’t seem to be much creative output. but maybe this is an outside view — the system internally cranks onwards.

lapping

talking to myself, fighting for space in the swimming pool. the last month, between jumps away to other locations, been pushing the physical envelope. up to 3000 meters a day in the pool. 2500 seemed very nice, 100 lengths, 50 minutes, roughly a meter per second. then, why not go for an even hour of exertion. somehow this seems to have put me in an entirely new mind-state. can’t quite tell, but seems to have made more aggressive? hmmmm. aside from the constant psy-ops of dealing with the scissor-kicking grammas and kamikaze grampas in the fast lane. there actually IS no fast lane. the pool, when not hosting the ubiquitous swim-teams, is roped with 2-lane-wide segments, where supposedly one should be doing slow counter-clockwise circles, down on the right, back on the left. there is no idea of segregating each of the three double-lanes for different speeds of swimmers, so I just choose the one with the fewest swimmers, and start off by going up and back in the center of the double-lane. this is only problematic if there are already swimmers of widely varying speeds, causing the need for two people passing at the same time. that and people who just aren’t aware of anybody else in the pool. if there are only three or four other people slowly doing breast-stroke laps, I force the situation by taking up half of the right lane, and swim up and back. my speed is anywhere from 2x to 5x the speed of the others with the rare exception of a real swimmer, in which case I can match anybody but the fastest young men swim-teamers. either way, I have to stay very alert for new swimmers coming into the lane who assume that everybody is going slowly, counter-clockwise, and the kids cannon-balling off the sprint-blocks. usually a few dramatic kick-turns lets folks know that I just want to have a quiet workout. a few times there have been aggressive men who join the lane and play chicken, sometimes I have actually swam under them head-on. mentally I rationalize the whole stance that the management COULD allocate lanes by speed. but I know this is an impossible concept for the leveled and overly-socialized culture to even consider the segmentation by physical ability. Nordic plain-ness. so, I just act like a foreigner. why not, I am one.

wandering between school and the flat that is home. like so many of the other flats I have stayed in during the last years. cable teevee. which is a magnet. would much rather be listening to public raydeeoh, but I never did make a habit of carrying my Sony shortwave after starting out on this long road 6.5 years ago. rather find my network connection and tune into KCRW or something decent in the way of music. like the special ARS01 version of Ambient City radio — a comprehensive history of ambient music featuring my old favs like The Hafler Trio and Kraftwerk. no DJ, just CD after CD. for a month or so. that’s cool.

it happens

it has begun. working after school. 1700 or so. Sanna sends me an SMS if you are not watching teevee, you should be. a bit strange message. I surf to BBC, but can’t raise the site. keep working and a bit later try CNN, can’t raise that one either. hmmmmm. odd. I leisurely pack up and make the 15 minute walk home and flip on BBC cable when I get to the flat. the rush of images, a bit incomprehensible at first, completely incomprehensible, mediated. half a world away. a place where I just was a few short weeks before. impossibly brilliantly horrible act.

crossing

about to fly. Terminal one. not leaving baggage unattended except for the future. future baggage. slick, clean terminal, but I find a 120 volt jack. it’s been spray-painted black to blend in with the faux-basalt wall panels. the remains of the 2.5-inch masking tape around the edges, outlined in overspray. as usual, my torso length does not fit the chairs. JC Decaux is here, the advertising agency, owner of advertising space. in Helsinki, too. folded consumer spaces. Finland is pro-consumer, hyper-consumer. who have I been kidding? sure, socialized health-care and such, but that is only a veneer.

In his extended concept of art as social sculpture, he recognized a need to create conditions, a humus that would first make a lively form possible. I saw that in my area of work — that is, art — a concept (or no concept) prevailed that was no longer viable. This nonexistent concept has an affirmative character, and it claims it can do something it cannot — to do something that has to be learned and mastered is exactly what the traditional concept of art cannot achieve. — on a Joseph Bueys exhibition, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung

exactly as I wish to do. setting up conditions for the lively growth and exchange of energies within an open framework full of possibility.

about to fly. clear and relatively temperate today in the City. sent Loki off home last night, out to the airport along with Stefan, who was sending Hildur, their au pair for the summer, back home on the same flight as Loki. departure was hurried and over in a few seconds. why am I regretting so many of the conditions I have imposed on my child’s life? guilt is destructive. Live Up!

sequence of null spaces

A day after catching the Gladiators (or who was it?) in Kaisaneimipuisto, so it goes: not surprising, but hardly any Finns dancing, it’s not that warm even though it’s the end of May. Heading west. Half-way across the Atlantic. 747. Simulator. Wonder who the pilot is? Chop is coming up. NYC tonight, actually it is night already, there in Helsinki where I used to be. Stupid Hollywood on the boxes lined up from stem to stern. And several tens of thousand liters of jet fuel starboard and port, or so the first officer told us somewhere over Belgium.

Nueva York, make it, a blur, through customs, and meet Stefan out front. He happened to be coming to the airport anyway this evening to pick Hildur, a relative who will be an au pair for them during the summer. Into the City, via a scenic tour on Conduit South, then Conduit North to Atlantic Blvd., the Brooklyn Bridge, and so on. So it goes. Shifting spaces, shifting cultures. Shape-shifting. Mind-shifting. Scandinavia to Manhattan. So different. But I am complacent about the differences, as a part of both cultures now. or neither. That’s more correct. Floating in a null space, convergent axis in a divergent cultural milieu.

reduced drivel

microscopic living. nothing happening, but time flowing. inexorable. with no possibility of slowing or stopping. damnation. loving and leaving / life. not just using language as a way of saying, but as a tool to mark the space as been there, gone now.

no place here to write anything of consequence. only reduced drivel again. thinking about the different stages of linguistic expression that are available. a diary, private, revelatory; dream journal, internalized and open to interpretation; personal letters, intimate, exploring the shared terrain; email, snatches of conversation, surfaces; the blog, stilted, pseudo; talking at a conference, formal; in a dialogue without interruption, depth; social conversation, again, surfaces, meta-subjects, sports, weather; sermons, monologues.

I have lied about dialogues. somehow have positioned them as a savior of the world, as the crux, the core of being. but it is not so, as I cannot explain why it is so. no demonstration, no confirmation, no experimental results, nothing left over, only the act itself, naked, stripped down, no wallowing in the rich linguistic mud that bring surficial healthy glows and Lights. there is absolutely no thing, no word, only the act. and nothing is really important, no thing, but only the way, the pathway of the Tao.

year six

about to turn another corner with this document. moving into it’s sixth year, already (it seems) that there is a deep past. But the interface, well, as I see examples around of the possibilities of .php and other forms of SQL database management, maybe I will have the opportunity to migrate the data to a different form in the future. quite tired of the present form. tedious at best. should it matter? implementation of other scales, levels of interface. what is the point of all the contemporary race towards a significant new way for the human body to interact with the digital dataspace. if it is to come, it will come.

on the poverty line that, at least relatively, strikes across my reality. realizing that though life is tenuous. Not enough money to live by, and the heartache worry paralysis stuck to this life-position drains me. this whole academic year — a year that starts when crops have been brought in from the fields, and ends with the spring planting time — has been a drain in that respect. and the upcoming preparations to leave this place permanently. recalls the final exodus from eLAy. poor planning, like a night flight into the wilderness, with wolves following, coyotes howling, but strangely no tangible fears except for the rooted one of home-less-ness. did the nomad ever fear that? doubtful. the nomad fears only the city and immobility! the howl of the coyote, who laughs anyway at most of the world, is not a chilling energy, but a firing, stirring, generating source. and watching the stars is a source of wisdom.

a long discussion with Akeno yesterday evening. synchronization within spheres of thinking that are surficially (in the abstracted levels of cultural meme) disparate, but in depth, in root, in fabric, warp and woof, threaded by the energy that carries that same social abstraction.

but now, on to the NEXT year of this bundle of words.

liquid skies

Friday nite. after net.culture class, jam down a beer at Meteori. but detached as hell.

forced marches, liquid skies. tatters of language still sticking to carrion corpses. use what is available. upload, download. split, divide, conquer. don’t worry about spelling, look, or feel, except when feel is skin-to-skin, and when that happens, the only worry is about why. passing passing passing. no gossip here, all the “art” meetings I have experienced, all the academic meetings, confluences, and the institutional structures applied. well, what is it — institutions are codifications of the human will to survive. that is, survival comes best to those who can spare energy to feed into collective social structures. apparently a collective can be more efficient with energy than an individual. or perhaps it is just that we are of that species-type. social animals. is it only in the space of dynamic flows can there be diversity? or, wait, that wasn’t it, walking home from KIASMA, art consumption (but free with the art card), thinking about institutions and structures, and what to say in response to criticism.

protein hunt

so it goes. and in the end there is so little left to say. belly growling, biting cheeks to get that little bit of self-generated protein to feed fingers to wriggle across keyboards and tired eyes to gaze the CRT gaze. nothing undone, all dialogues ending in the space of pregnant genesis.

who’s pregnant? the world? the flow? where is the possibility to become, neither seen nor unseen to any receptor, stripped of all style, all context, becoming the matrix itself.

dessication

how to take theory, words, and too many conflicting and binding thoughts and synthesize a better path of active, applied, and fulfilling presence. impossible to describe the mechanics of failure.

short-timing. again. trying to figure out the next time I can get together with Loki again. looks like it will be a long spring again, unless I get the disposable income to fly him to Helsinki for a week. lunch with Freyr, who is now working at DeCode Genetics managing Data Mining development activities.

fading dayLight follows the wind, but the wind doesn’t seem to drain from the heavens. it creates itself again and again in each moment and in each place, varying itself in the chaos of becoming to fill space with an overall directed movement, whoosh! to be a cloud.

and darkness arrives, stilling the wind for awhile, but not for ever. rain begins, adds to the intrigue. making the wind work for carrying the extra burden. and wetting everything more or less.

such a contrast with the wind and rain in the desert. where nothing gets wet, the dryness adsorbs everything except the flash-flood down-pouring where everything is awash. and the wind only insults the skin by reminding one that dessication is the ultimate death. dry and lonesome. no moldering, just dynastic mummification, leathering skin, a gradual process that actually begins before the soul departs the body, long before. while blood still throbs along. the anti-humidity sucking life through every pore. Osiris osmosis.

starting

A brutal long day with nine hours of flying broken in two halves. On the road again for another intensive springtime. and then summer will come. and what next? Big questions come up. As usual.Cobbling together a pathway. And too much listening to other people, and not finding the heart is speaking loud enough (taught not to listen, I guess). Intelligence is no great advantage in this world unless it is combined with fortitude and concentration and the ability to focus attention. Going to see if Willa would be game to share her java scripting from her journal pages to restructure this site. Talks with Janet about her massive genealogical work motivates me even more to be more inclusive and extensive with the web space. Linking all content into a more cohesive whole. Or at least creating a deep cross-referencing system.

David Glenn Marshall 1958 – 2000

scanning the network for old friends, I look for my oldest friend, David. from second through sixth grade in Clarksburg. a friend for exploring with: fields and woods, following creeks, playing soldier, fishing in the pond behind our house, slogging through swamps and bogs, long summer adventures with canteens and snacks, hiking sticks and knives, watching out for poison ivy, copperheads, and water moccasins, riding bikes into the dim of humid summer evenings, playing catch until eye could no longer see the ball. soft spoken and gentle, David stuttered a bit, but was a determined and stalwart friend. we ended up in different schools after elementary school, and we lost contact after that, but I knew he went on to be a commercial pilot. and now he’s gone. he shared the same birthday as Loki. August 18. he was 9 days older than I, now he’s forever younger, buried in the cemetery behind the little white clapboard church in the center of Clarksburg, a couple hundred yards from the home he grew up in. and the school we attended together. more “David Glenn Marshall 1958 – 2000”

fractions

fractions of lives. shivering in the wide-ness of being. running into Timo, his wife is in a coma, it happened suddenly three weeks ago. and in the pool, swimming, I realize that my own being tends to be sucked into the energy fields of those who are not sensitive of their projection into the world. sounds convoluted. it is convoluted. but, upon sensing that someone is not acutely tuned to their surroundings (as if I ever was), it is my tendency to project myself into their projected space of insensitivity. blah. paradox, or just mind-filler.

simply the best

cafe9.net, the final chapter. forum with the folks from around about. the city, Brussels, is moving into the next state, as that is going. European Development. mapping into the spaces of being. the view from the hotel is raucous. the day after the ending day of the networking and creativity workshop with a nice compact, concentrated group of participants. five cultures. and seven points-of-view. synthesizing. in both form and function. small successes, leading to interventions of energized sparkings. crossings, no genetic alterations. no need for that. (reading in the paper about the GM fish. (faugh!)) needing to counter these migrations and permutations of the matrix of living energy.

potato and chicken soup, a local specialty. chocolate mousse.

film1999

rare green tea, USD300/100 grams. only the smallest leaf-buds, hand-picked by virgins for the Emperor. provided to us by a young artist from Hong Kong who is staying in the house this week. mmmMMMMmmmmm. evenings, nights, mornings, darkness. schedules packed with actions. Seppo Renvall’s abstract and figurative film work “film1999” at Kiasma is a little glimmer back to Stan Brakhage and Bruce Elder. those way-back figures who blew me away (and yet, I still don’t make art to fit that genealogy, I don’t make any art at all. anymore. no postcards, no prints, no pictures, no video hardly, digital images just drift around.) an accumulating archive that there is no time to re-project into the dialectic space of cultural discourse. just pushing it on people. nah, leaving it lie. stuck in digits and boxes.

Villa Mairea

A bit of touring in Finland, as Stefan is visiting me in Helsinki from New York. This video starts with a tour of the Mairea Gullichsen house (Villa Mairea) designed by Alvar Aalto and courtesy of Risto, Kaisu’s fianc&eacute who’s managing the corporate real estate there. Chock full o’ art work, and itself an artwork. Art inside of art. The space, the enveloping situation as a locus for art to happen within (architecture proposes that the world is a place to be). It’s been four years and a half years since I was last in this small corner of the world. Funny to think of the encounters with another Gullichsen a few years back.

The video then goes on to document a trip over to Tallinn, then back to Bedford, New York and Glen Ridge, New Jersey.

Lev’s edifice

Lev was suggesting that the skyscraper was the ultimate (or crucial) symbolic and real social expression of the Industrial Age, and, in the course of his fascinating lecture, pondered what might be the crucial expression of the Information Age. immediately my thoughts went to the concept of LifeStyle as being that edifice — LifeStyle becomes the penultimate expression of the consumer society. this false edifice of success(-full) surrender to a socially mandated norm or behavior. the vapid Look of it all.

and what about creativity — too much attention paid to aspects or results of it — and no observations that is is a continuous, (NOT sporadic) and peak experience. and, at the same time, it is cyclic. and it involves both the creative and destructive principles. it is not a commodity. it is harmonic, balanced from all scalable viewpoints and sensual contacts.

some notes I wrote later:

In this era there are (pseudo)nomads who dance around the monuments of the global information age. These monuments — status, wealth, and power — together combine in a single ever-shape-shifting edifice with no seam, no crack, but with the seductive and bewildering attraction of Joseph’s Technicolor mantle aLight and burning with the fire in Plato’s cave. The edifice is Life-Style. Its ornamentation is Fashion.
more “Lev’s edifice”

notes on creativity

most of the texts that I have been absorbing in the last weeks deal with creativity as a discontinuous (non-cyclic) and anomalous event rising above the normal “level” of daily life. this view is an obvious artifact of materialist thinking that treats life as a linear (singular) trajectory and that the expressions of that living can be wholly reduced linguistically to various statements and formulations. accepting that this view IS true within its own limited framework (the history of rational thinking), a critique would have to deconstruct the whole facade of Western philosophy in order to make a substantive attack on the position. this writer is neither qualified nor interested in making such a frontal attack which would simply be tossed aside in the dumpster of academic discourse. instead, understanding that to even name a philosophy or a philosopher that stands supporting that edifice would only give power to a system that I believe is fundamentally flawed, I have chosen to proceed intuitively, and perhaps poetically, making enormous and possibly scandalous generalizations, leaving the normative conventions of the English language behind, and simply dive into thoughts that are reflecting through waters muddied by 42 years of thrashing around in a world that seems more intense and striking everyday. by this methodology, combined with a desire that these texts be only the opening for a dialogue with the Other who might come on it, here in the sea of hyperspace, I will begin. more “notes on creativity”

Uncle Howard and Aunt Winifred

what happens when language is no longer understandable? can it be any longer the tool that it once was? or does it wedge like a piece of corned beef between the teeth, only gotten out with wet-nailed picking that leaves politeness behind, or by jamming a lucky stiff toothpick right in there to pry it loose. otherwise it sticks only to disappear gradually through the the digestive action of salivary juices.

I finally meet Kenneth, from Haparanda, across on the Swedish side. he’s the editor of a culture ‘zine called N66. we came into contact last fall when he was trying to find some support and information to support a Millennium project he was doing linking the cities of Tornio/Haparanda and Arkangelsk in Russia. he interviews me with the mind to juxtapose my view of creativity and technology and that of a Russian artist that he knows. in our conversation, I restate many of my views concerning the dangers of technology versus the real possibilities of using technology as just another mediative tool that stands between the self and the Other. life rolls on and then doesn’t.

this entry is added in retrospect, in a strange retrospect of distance, surprise, and chagrin. that notice of the passing of two close relatives was communicated only weeks after the fact. that the moment of death was forgotten and by the time it reached my ears, the fact was cool and detached. and more sad. My Aunt Winifred passed this month (6 April 2000). My Uncle Howard, two months into the short future (June 24, 2000). I suppose no surprise in the synchronized passing, as they lived close as far as I ever knew. and now, gone. recollections, remembrances are the best way to prolong the energies that they spent in this incarnation. and I shall construct a few in the next weeks to fulfill this need.

arrival

reLab HQ, Riga, Latvia, March 2000

When the gaps in these notes are so large, there is a distinct lack of continuity between here and there. When the here’s have been so many, and the now’s are rapid and brimming with the negation of writing: life, empty space becomes the content. And the there’s are forgotten. Heading to new lands. New and old friends. Riga, after exactly twenty-four hours of travel. From Lapland to Riga. Flights, if you had good connections would take about five hours total. But connections never seem to be good here on the perimeter. Tornio was a short week of snowy brilliance, a couple hard workouts, running to the pool, not so far away, but enough to make me feel like I need to push body against the barriers that make it uncomfortable. Running to the pool, swimming hard for 30 – 40 minutes, running home. After taking the time for a sauna, of course. Yeah, in a train now, so time for a few reflections: No more short teaching gigs in the next year. Minimum of two weeks, with preference for four. The idea of doing six one-month workshops at different places seems very appealing. Then the balance of time in the southwest of the US? Can it really work? Time is passing so quickly that dreams run away. Only just now arrived. Twenty-four hours full on the road. Getting too old for this kind of action, but where will it cease? Movement was quite a bit easier than I had thought here at the border of the Evil Empire. But the atmosphere has that tinge, an edge of desolation somehow, a bit of wildness. Flatness. Arrested construction — the Soviet could not concentrate enough energy to bring the society to a point of self-sustained possibility for its members. So it goes. Riding the bus from Tallinn. The landscape is peaceful smooth, not so extreme as Finland, already enough south to get away from that edge feeling. Though Tornio seems always familiar despite the extremity. Mountains of snow lining all the streets. Impressions. The first moment in E-Lab here in Riga. I’m early, I caught an earlier bus leaving from the harbor in Tallinn. Rasa and Raitis are not here in the moment, so I wait and write instead. Overlooking the river. A dark gray-green monument to a struggle sits below on the bank of the river near the railroad bridge, two figures fighting something that is invisible, something over there, downstream.

palace of Lights

up not too early with the same headache that I ended the evening with. it dissipates gradually. Susi comes by at 1030 to drive me in to the Uni for the day. lunch with Jürgen Friedrich, the director of the Digital Media Master’s program, so we exchange some information and ideas briefly before I have to head to Frieder and Susi’s class. the beginning of class is delayed because of technical failures, so by the time it gets underway, I have to leave for the Hauptbahnhof to catch the Berlin train. on that ICE train at the moment, wondering how long the battery will last. and whether the rather bumpy ride will cause problems with the hard drive. not yet, at least. really wondering what to do about this web site. trying to map a strategy to deal with the data space.

The Divine Structure of the Head
It is made up of nine palaces corresponding to the nine heavens: one inch in, between the two eyebrows, is the “palace of Lights,” in which dwells the divinity of the Great One, flanked left and right by the purple room and the vermilion cross. One inch farther in is the palace of the three immortals. Three inches into the skull is the palace of the upper field of cinnabar; four inches in, the palace of moving pearls; five inches in, the palace of the Jade Emperor. In addition, above these dwellings, we have the celestial courtyard, the palace of the Highest Summit, the palace of the mysterious cinnabar and the palace of the August Heaven. — Daoist manuscript

I make it to the cafe across the street from HdK-Berlin to meet with Wolfgang.

decoding

this morning a step was taken, leading somewhere. away, towards. not clear, as mind is not clear, but the need to move toward clarity is not in stoking time so full of actions and opportunities to meet and greet with a long-term result of spreading consciousness over spaces so vast and convoluted that the totality of psychic and biologic energy is stretched thinner than the skin that holds meat and frame together. skins, surfaces, interfaces. creative action wells up, and the machine presses it into forms that do not release or flow. these times have been corrupted. following lines that are not straight, wending through secret geometries that are reflections of reflections of reflections of Silicon Dioxide mediations. this space here, text-mediated, papered, peppered with repeated and repeated structures. grinds itself to a standstill. constantly, and revives with each successive letter, comma, and line. the death of the text is in the interstices between words, between the minimal elements of its meaning. between the granularity of its sense. the death of digital is in the total vacuum of the interstices. the null set, the Dirac-delta function. zero-to-infinity in NO time. discontinuity. a mirror of life-cycles without the relief that they repeat. no illustrations to add smooth relief to this linguistic torrent. separated from cafe9.net as content coordinator. but the double scheduling of things just makes it impossible for me to do the job and it just didn’t work, like I have never walked away from anything. ever. but when the energy isn’t good, I do it. and indeed there has been a pearl of liberation buried deep in the act of walking away, gritting sand, grinding into flesh, and flesh responding with defense mechanisms of great beauty. the pearl is buried, though, so deep in the act, that for it to expunge itself, to surface in view, into ocular reception, life has to be lived with a slowness that is not a slowness of time, but a slowness of being. time is irrelevant. it is transcendence that must be surfaced without regard to social favor or safety or security or even presence. curvilinear. rectilinear. geometries. mechanics. quanta, critical media theory, the newest shows on teevee, software, code, code, DeCode. Loki arrives tomorrow, to visit me and his old haunts. well, me and Aaron, his best friend. he wants to hang out with both of us at the same time, wants me to get to know Aaron better. such a jewel a child can be. I busily try to re-map the spring to ensure regular times here in Iceland, strange to think of that. but it is clear for me that Loki needs his Pabby around at least some of the time. it can’t be all the time, and that makes my heart ache.

y2k

sporadic bottle-rockets, M-80’s, and strings of fire-crackers going off signals the approach of the New Years celebration in three short days. discussions do circulate on the condition of the world. and the possibilities of … but nobody knows anything for sure. so, speculation gets to be old and stale, and there is left only hollow waiting, which is, for me, a space of suspended living. there is no real breathless rushing towards doom. and portents are quite harmless, although they do pop into consciousness from time to time. waiting. letting fingernails grow, not calling folks. dinner last night with Val, Niels, Haukur, and Helmut, like the old times. Loki a few years older, eating, drinking, and talking. all of us older. me graying at the muzzle, look in the mirror, after pissing, behind amorphous silica eye covers, technology does not impact my being, only the body, or maybe it is vice-versa, maybe everything is changed with the advent of networked machines.

muffled shopping

What is unique about the system 49er is an autonomous knowledge discoverer. It automatically tunes itself to the forms of knowledge that are appropriate for a given dataset: equations, contingency tables, taxonomies, decision trees, and the like. 49er explores huge hypotheses spaces, evaluating the strength (to ensure predictive power) and significance of results (to prevent overfit). — Arun Sanjeev and Jan Zytkow

what can I say, as I data-mine the Web for something about neural networks and such-like stuff. swimming amongst specified isomorphic language sets that drift almost untethered in the sea of knowledge that Newton spoke about. I know I will resist attaching to them. rather break their hermetic borders, spill their guts, blow air into their still lively bladder-skins, stir in some activated amino- or lysergic-acids, and boil the whole pot. hot soup for the soul. spend several hours shopping. or at checking things out. still hard to spend money. but for Christmas for a few people, well, not such a problem. it is just such a tedious process. absolutely not stimulating. and all the while, in the back of my head, the question lies, what will happen in the next 27 days? and the consume-madness that each microscopic movement of capital contributes to. whatever. shopping. and it is all taking place in a near-silent, or somehow muffled environment. no blaring Christmas music, bells ringing or other noises. just the susserations of video surveillance servos, shop-lifting detectors, and card-swipers.

~/Connected

massive busy-ness over the weekend with the ~/Connected conference at the Lasipalatsi. Tapio had asked me earlier if I could help out with activities on the ground, and although I was pretty busy anyway, I was around to help, then ended up being quite involved in the discussions, and even made a short public presentation at the end in Bio Rex, dealing with best-practice scenarios for education/learning situations. Polar Circuit was held up as that model in learning situations, along with the idea of open-platform, socially balanced situations.

/~Connected press releases for local and translocal use

Cultural industries and independent media cultural production are of primary importance for Finnish policy development, as a new program, “Content Finland” is being drafted during next year. In each European country, goals of both national and transnational media culture have been met with different strategies. Through /~Connected knowledge and shared experience, it is possible to form models of best practice – and principles for both national and European policy.

The driving force behind this event and series of other meetings prior to it is the ECB, European Cultural Backbone (https://ecb.t0.or.at/, https://monoskop.org/European_Cultural_Backbone [Ed: now only a historical archive on monoskop]). It is a network of media cultural organizations, centers, and active individuals throughout Europe, not only European Union member countries. To quote Dr. Peter Wittmann, Austrian State Secretary for the Arts, “The European Cultural Backbone is the logical extension of this ongoing dialog between cultural practitioners and policy makers regarding strategies of “practice to policy” on both national and European levels.”

The Main organizer of /~Connected, the Lasipalatsi Media Center, also seeks to discuss how European media centers could increasingly collaborate. How to best connect venues of presenting media culture and sites that produce it? Support of networks, bandwidth, mobility, distribution and production are key factors for policy discussion.

Traditionally, in a European democracy, public space has been defined through access to public institutions, freedom to move in city spaces and through the existence of certain democratic instruments such as public libraries and publicly supported broadcast media. New media, Internet in particular, has made it possible to more actively shift content production to smaller units or groups. Creation of public space can mean support for content production and communication that does not focus on a single mass audience, but particular communities (or consumers) and layers within the larger society and the networked world. Major issue for debate is thus to consider, how to best connect various models of best practice and policy that enable cultural production in a networked, changing Europe.

The seminar takes place in the very center of Helsinki, in Lasipalatsi Media Center (https://www.lasipalatsi.fi). Meals during the conference program are provided for by the organizers and there is no attendance fee. We are providing air fare and accommodation for a group of participants that comes from smaller media centers and organizations. We are happy to assist your travel arrangements by providing information on accommodation and flights.

/~CONNECTED brings together practitioners, producers and policy makers within contemporary media culture in Europe. Its attempts to create exchanges of experience and information between organizations and individuals from different fields: media cultural organizations, media centers, policy makers on a local, national and European level, media art organizations, corporate research labs and university researchers.

Following events such as P2P conference in Netherlands and Networking Centers of Innovation in Austria, it explores the ways in which local experiences can be compared, exchanged and rewritten to form models of best practice.

The event will officially launch the ECB, European Cultural Backbone, a network based on trust and a shared interest to promote a rich media cultural practice, which already flourishes in Europe. The network proposes that an Internet Backbone or a set wide bandwidth would be subsidized by the EU in order to enable transnational media production, broadcast transmission of events and inexpensive communications. The ECB acts as an advisory body for the policy makers nationally and within the EU.

/~CONNECTED is very much about the goals of the ECB:

1) Bandwidth for media culture
2) Support for models of best practice
3) Active investigation of what European media culture consists of
4) Enhanced networking between media cultural organizations, individual hubs” and policy makers.

/~CONNECTED refers to the ways in which media cultural local practices and organizations create collaboration, projects, discourse and policy across and partly independent of national borders. Emerging networks, projects and content are no longer international, but translocal by nature, already connected.

Bauhaus

back in Helsinki already. offline for almost seven full days, barring a short peek at email on the 11th from the center for Contemporary Art there in Prague, sandwiched in between a hectic schedule of meetings and discussions with the cafe9.net crew there. so much going down that it is TOTALLY impossible to make flowing sense or documentation of anything! stumbling back to Helsinki, on the screaming wind of jet streams, to the top-floor rabbit hutch I am soon to bail out from. head out back on the road again. Dresden, Leipzig, Dessau, Bauhaus. Kurt Weill and Walter Gropius, Kandinsky and Brecht. and wet historical sex.

This is the life of man on earth but of darkness we come at birth
Into a lamplit room, and then
Go forward into dark again ….
Now a man don’t mind if the stars grow dim and the clouds blow over and darken him As long as the Lord God’s watching over them, keeping track how it all goes on. But I’ve been walking through the night and the day
Till my eyes get weary and my hair turns grey.
And sometimes it seems maybe God’s gone away
Forgetting the promise that we heard him say.
And we’re lost out here in the stars,
Big stars, little stars, blowing through the night.
And we’re lost out here in the stars,
Big stars, little stars, blowing through the night.
— Maxwell Anderson

massive flows of people in the brisk air, crossing stone-line spaces in complete human order. while I sit in a silent room, drifting through remote lives, remote life. so many points of presence in the matrix, the embedded volume of life, that calculation has to be estimated, by orders-of-magnitude, unspecific, prone to inaccuracy, messy guess-timation, and catastrophic over-runs and under-flows. slipsticks drove WWII efforts of calculation. slide rules. painted, demarcated bamboo slivers. then came the electronic calculator that I desperately needed after one semester at CSM, exams were constructed with a calculator speed in mind, so, the slipstick had to go, had to spend five hundred on a TeeEye-71 magnetic-card-programmable machine with advanced scientific equation features. playing land-the-lunar-module on it, same as on the main-frame over in the Green Building.