Lethargy
Mapping meticulously where exact perforations will expose corrosion; where individuality and vastness are revealed. There are no transfer copies. Becoming unique is painful. The scars of the incisionist are remnants of the first breath released with penetration and a reminder of the unfulfilled. This endures the release of the dying and promotes the pain of the unknown.
Desiring to annihilate all possibilities rendering everything old and used, infatuation finds all points of access and escape to proliferate toxins of history and distortion through its ventricles to finish consuming any vitality left in them. Forgetting why the hands turned in the first place infatuation leaves the entrails where it explored its distraction when the surface radiates and it comes up for air.
They find that their breath ends in small chasms. Bound to one another with body fluids, they tremble to stay awake, aware, awry. The oscillation of their needs expands beyond their bodies; tremors form. Fissures grow and with a yawn of discomfort they slide past one another; falling prey to the wind.
The defective machine wants to survive. In search of loose bolts longevity is its aim. The old parts deceitfully are still but the mole-cules, undetectable, spread and rust. Aching, with no culprit in sight, sluggish, it seizes to take a break; its limbs rotting weigh down its rhythm. Frozen there in the midst of flashes of life it disregards hunting season and lets the dismembering begin.
The limit erases and therefore creates the non-existent. There is no touch in touching if touching is limited to sound. There is no sight in seeing if seeing is limited to hearing. There are no legs in walking if walking is limited to hands.
Weaving in and out of conversations, becoming a tired mind reader, and looking to find an illumination...inaugurate a threading. The needle trespasses the appearances of conversation infusing them with traces of decay. Upon contact finding the heat necessary for the sake of burning the buried and searching the ruins for a place to thrive, to fashion together the weapon of intermittence.
Breaking bones, an idea painful enough to paralyze is the inspiration for the contortionist's aesthetic. The bone crushers come from the underpass. They are not artists but they move to enact a vision divided in angles multiplied with each move. The body has no shape, only an illusion and a vision deferred to a spectacle.
The exact point of convergence of linear screams. The location where departure is possible and has no destination.The reason why ligaments can stretch; the connection between blood, tendons and nerves. The moment when two opposing energies meet. The exact point of interaction between water and ice.The location where the perceived becomes strange.
The exact point of convergence of linear screams.
The location where departure is possible and has no destination.
The reason why ligaments can stretch; the connection between blood, tendons and nerves.
The moment when two opposing energies meet.
The exact point of interaction between water and ice.
The location where the perceived becomes strange.
Interchangeability becomes the oscillation of solid waste. Solid waste resides in the irruption of plasmas. Plasma spills its tears to free momenatary images. Images that last by incarceration; their liquids entering each other to illuminate the explosion of this combination. Combinations that create nothing less than a spatter.
Mosaics painted in black, washed with music reveal a keyhole without a lock. The key, a rotting piece of iron on the last house of the block with the trees, cars, and square mailboxes. The tar melts as the colors of the mosaics burn through. The street becomes clearer, the iron pauses, the trees sway in that direction, the cars are still, the mailboxes rattle in anticipation, the lights are off and if one doesn't look there is only a childrens' book.
Patiently awaiting the opportunity to become immobile, imperceptible, and lost. Moving only when necessary, creating other modes of experience, understanding distance as irrelevant and quantities as exhausting it waits for a coma.
The mirror and its reflection act like a string. Pulling on this string unravels the many arbitrary systems that have created the instantaneous reflection, meaning that the way that you see yourself, your identity, begins to disintegrate the more you look in the mirror. Then a sort of dismembering becomes possible.
There is a focus - awareness of erratic moves and their destination, creating a silk thread and wrapping it around the larynx contracting its fibers to create a coded expression, unrecognizable to the senses.
Found in a state of confusion between a word and a gesture, the con-artist paints doors. The con-artist howls at the moon and basks in the sun within constricted walls; it melts to resemble the personages in fairytales. Its skin is a camouflage for torn muscles, broken bones, and stretched tendons; the fragmentation required to blend. Blending stretches beyond the body and into the mirrored reflection of those with no names; beings who are traceable only through scars.
Found in a state of confusion between a word and a gesture, the con-artist paints doors.
The con-artist howls at the moon and basks in the sun within constricted walls; it melts to resemble the personages in fairytales.
Its skin is a camouflage for torn muscles, broken bones, and stretched tendons; the fragmentation required to blend. Blending stretches beyond the body and into the mirrored reflection of those with no names; beings who are traceable only through scars.
Hidden from the colors of the day, absorbed by night, playgrounds emerge beyond the senses. These playgrounds are undetectable. In the darkness their surfaces blend into each other. Upon further inspection their intricate mazes hypnotize the voyager. In a trance the playground disappears; only touch is left. This moment marks the return of senses. Here the body integrates into the territory, it becomes its landscape. The body awakens finding the impalpable: the skin. Here the verb play is enacted; the infusion of doing with creativity. The creative searches for multiple points of connection, through these one grows aware of one’s own invisibility; to disappear in the open space of everything. In linking these physical spaces, the playground and the body, one is able to find the spores of the imperceptible; the fungi proliferate amidst decomposition and grow limbs. Through these playgrounds they occupy darkness to amuse those that have not yet arrived.
Hidden from the colors of the day, absorbed by night, playgrounds emerge beyond the senses. These playgrounds are undetectable. In the darkness their surfaces blend into each other. Upon further inspection their intricate mazes hypnotize the voyager.
In a trance the playground disappears; only touch is left. This moment marks the return of senses. Here the body integrates into the territory, it becomes its landscape. The body awakens finding the impalpable: the skin. Here the verb play is enacted; the infusion of doing with creativity.
The creative searches for multiple points of connection, through these one grows aware of one’s own invisibility; to disappear in the open space of everything. In linking these physical spaces, the playground and the body, one is able to find the spores of the imperceptible; the fungi proliferate amidst decomposition and grow limbs.
Through these playgrounds they occupy darkness to amuse those that have not yet arrived.
The doors were left open. The locks were designed uniformally, their keys branded on the body. Pieced together with inanimate objects they moved through one another under arches, passageways, and crevices to find left over body parts in ordinate boxes; hands, eyes, toes. They played with them, attempted to animate them but lost. Some knocking on the door stiffens them. Across the room, a faint scar is visible, the dismembered gravitate toward it. This eroded flesh waits.It is here in the room of the benign that desire grows.
The doors were left open. The locks were designed uniformally, their keys branded on the body. Pieced together with inanimate objects they moved through one another under arches, passageways, and crevices to find left over body parts in ordinate boxes; hands, eyes, toes. They played with them, attempted to animate them but lost. Some knocking on the door stiffens them. Across the room, a faint scar is visible, the dismembered gravitate toward it. This eroded flesh waits.
It is here in the room of the benign that desire grows.
The excessive rattling of the larynx fills the air of desolation like a snake charmer, its tones intoxicate the numb anatomy of the dormant as one enters a labyrinth in the making; too many rooms to find an entry back. The undertones of regional belonging intensify the lullaby furthering the unexpected jaunt; no one can stop from listening to the nonsensical chorus of enticement. Its inaudible fragments of sound captivate the eardrum, one expression blankets the silence: a body shattering. It originates where the perceived becomes strange and stranger. The shards cut through walls of space to distort its capabilities. One needs nothing but the ear to ingest an excess of potential beginnings. Thus, this calling resonates with the body, those who want to get lost should listen. In these rooms stolen treasures are found; copies of one's own "misplaced" trinkets brought here without memory. They are unrecognizable. The eyes can no longer see them, in this darkness they are trash. They molder in the absence. The emptiness of these rooms waits for no one. That knob is the closest but to open it without fingers further locks one in the cosmos of the forgotten.
Tonight the insomniac is lurking, calmly blanketing all the light, and the dark sucking the lifelessness out. It sits observing, every movement is calculating, crampted, to move it slides past the mist and in-between the uncertainty of the dawn stretching searching for the strike of a match, a victim, a tiger...an endless expedition. It finds the hidden furrows waiting there in the belly of the night staring into a pair of eyes. Blinking only once, a sign of recognition, slightly feeling stranger and stranger, resignation, acceptance, yet relaxed. In turn realizing, there is no where to go, maps are inaccessible, in the darkness of the center of the pupil pathways begin to form; fragile threads. It lingers long enough to pull one with the teeth, they converge in the same direction and instantly traverse their movement, pitch black-ness deeper and thick fills all ellipses. Sinking into its slush, the thick unforgiving soup, stretches every movement swallowing the life-drive, submerging in agony, it embraces this new darkness; so restless.It is obliged to disappear. In one last burst, a spark ignites relieving the dawn into the eyes and thus it forgets...
Tonight the insomniac is lurking, calmly blanketing all the light, and the dark sucking the lifelessness out. It sits observing, every movement is calculating, crampted, to move it slides past the mist and in-between the uncertainty of the dawn stretching searching for the strike of a match, a victim, a tiger...an endless expedition. It finds the hidden furrows waiting there in the belly of the night staring into a pair of eyes. Blinking only once, a sign of recognition, slightly feeling stranger and stranger, resignation, acceptance, yet relaxed. In turn realizing, there is no where to go, maps are inaccessible, in the darkness of the center of the pupil pathways begin to form; fragile threads. It lingers long enough to pull one with the teeth, they converge in the same direction and instantly traverse their movement, pitch black-ness deeper and thick fills all ellipses.
Sinking into its slush, the thick unforgiving soup, stretches every movement swallowing the life-drive, submerging in agony, it embraces this new darkness; so restless.It is obliged to disappear. In one last burst, a spark ignites relieving the dawn into the eyes and thus it forgets...
Rattlings
The Limit
the dismembered
It must forget
Invisible Playgrounds
Infatuation
the somnambulant
Storytelling
The Incisionist
Coded, (The Indecipherable)
Irrationality
Gateway
Materiality
The String
Any Body Any Space
Extraction
Each stride must force the next...
Disintegration
The Midway
Sacrifice
Survival
Tarot Cards
Infusion
Threading
Con-Artist
The Deferred Living
Nexus
Interchangeability
The Contortionist