Creative Madhouses
Just thinking stuff...
When you get it right, do it wrong, rinse and repeat. Failings succeed, successes fail. The failings wouldn't fail. The succeed (a layering of meaning) wouldn't be success. Meaning the interactivity wouldn't involve the mirroring outcome. Think wild strawberries in a field...
Mobius & Non-Universaism
Cell Phones & Human Trafficking.
Art & Constantine's Sword
Maybe not Constantine's Sword? This is in reference to the book that discusses the context among contexts, such as the context that worked in relation to the Holocaust, which among my polemics I even reference the Christian Social Party. However, this isn't picking up with polemics anymore, in that, I have my tacit binder form, of a method of narrative computation that will work within the DeColonial context of language, of a differing relationship with the language itself, of a institutional form that is entirely new. That is a matter that one can take note of with the informatic models of philosophy cultures.
This reference to the book, though, was one line in particular I recalled, as I honed in on my digital form of art presentation, that intends on working with tapestry, in reference to Carol King, and in reference to ancient tradition, when we explore how the designs relate to textile. Even in my travels within and outside the country, and my explorations among the library and archives, when matters delve into ancient form, there is a crossroads, among the forms presented. This particular passage works within the context of ancient form of Christianity and Jewish tradition, but this should also include Muslim tradition as well, including reading through history books of Mecca, and the symbols of the past, reflecting all 3 traditions including the Star of David. Anyhow, the passage:
The so-called "parting of the ways" between Christian and Jews would take place gradually over two or three centuries. All early conflict occurs within the multifaceted world of Judaism, not only in the sense that various sects and subgroups still identify themselves as "Israel," but also in the sense that the nature of the disputes reflects the long tradition of intra-Jewish tensions, especially between prophetic and priestly strains.....Archaeological surveys of gravesites in the ancient Mediterranean world show that it is often impossible, into the second and third centuries to tell the difference between Jewish and Christian tombs. The remains of churches and synagogues dating even later show traces of mosaic decoration -- a sacred vine motif, for example -- that are similar. Christians have long been accustomed to thinking of representations of the fish, of bread, and of the cup as expressly Christian symbols, but in the age when such signs were being engraved on the walls of what we think of as Christian catacombs, non-Christian Jews were using the same symbols so much so that one historian concludes that, while Christians were gathering at the Eucharist, some Jews also were using bread and wine " as vehicles of Jewish worship and hope." ...both Jewish and Christian ritual indicates the strength of common sources...and Muslim.
Not of the literal, His-Tory, Talk-Talk, routine, but rather from the lens of artistry. Not of a literal-thinking, but rather a non-literal thinking. So it wouldn't be this need for extensive sense-making, among colonial form, or a need to be right or wrong. Rather, we can simply show insight into the matter.
A Ukrainian Synagogue:
Early Christian:
Vatican Mosaic
There's just something about the pattern continuum play, that differs from the subject play and how those forms can be used. Social media desires the subject as a foundation, even if one is engaging pattern continuum play. It's my response I think, in relation to art and this internet matter. I did a faux-persona before as sarcasm, but it wasn't really a digital presentation that I was comfortable with. It was coming across as cynical, or pseudo-celebrity, and didn't really reference or detour the mind in a way that questions the consequences of subject as foundation play. Meaning, I think art can offer violence to the world, even when it is adorned with subjects of peace. Good art, likely, holds a sobering in relation to the subject, and yet, among digital platform, that becomes more of a challenge as the subject tends to be the emphasized foundation. The artist's art, the artist's brand's art, and various degrees of separation, that still emphasize the subject as foundation. Even when matters can be whatever one likes, there remains an evaluative need, when the foundation is subject, when art serves violence, rather than peace. It's not like I would even get away from this, as I open an account to present "my" art, art that the evaluator could say this is or isn't me, and yet, the interaction sets forth the foundation of violence, that the artists are to embrace, it would seem, and yet to orient toward an ancient aesthetic, that embrace wouldn't be an inevitability. There are threads among these traditions, that are obviously together, of which wouldn't be a need to talk, as the shared designs confirm, and the continuity, wouldn't require the play of subject. I wouldn't say that I am rejecting or critiquing anything at this point, but I am detouring. My art will be used in such a way, that we all are to connect among our violent plays of subject, and yet, we can embrace a subject, among the form that will highlight that underlying assumption. I think of Kara Walker's work, and even her remark on who would we be without racism, a sobering response, to the struggling matter that seems in-need of perpetuating itself, and for desires, that aren't so peaceful. I do think violence is the foundation of this word, and taking that sobering, bitter, pill, as foundation, is a way of hindering the amplitudes of such violence, to connect with a pulse of remorse and gratitude. It's a connection that is easier said than done I think, among Facebooks, TikToks, DeepSomethings, Instagrams, etc... To even connect with a pulse, when upon presentation, you are before eyes serving others, until one becomes a block of hardened, subject, ice. The pulse wouldn't be there, but rather one is serving among the game of violence successfully, which doesn't seem to look violent at all. It seems happy and self-realized, peaceful and diplomatic, and yet subject remains as foundation.
I am satisfied with my digital work as it stands. I do think I will likely remove the literal aspects to it, though it was fun experimenting with the literal. I simply like, even among what is controlled so well in today's contemporary societies, subject as foundation, violence as perpetual priority, the juxtaposition, of a form that references the connective threading of ancient tradition, involving the culture I am a part of, provides a window in relation to the assumed position of the artist today. No artist, it would seem to me, couldn't avoid this. We all assume this position. We are all violent, and you can buy my violence for an affordable price. There's thought behind this digital play, on the second go-around, and again, I'm satisfied with this for the most part, so that's now officially on-go. I'll simply need to keep a steady pace with it.
The next push is going to be more of my physical paintings, which I've been building on and choosing mediums in relation to choice subject. Seems like I have a plan. I am excited about this, and I too will present and sell the work in this ritual of violence we all share in. The only artistry that I think differs would be like the Tibetan sand art, of a creation destroyed and without record. They wouldn't be bound to such a measure. So maybe they are the artists, and I'm the snake oil salesperson? This includes anyone in a gallery, museum, or with an online presence, etc... I just can't really say for sure? Even if temporary, there remains subject interlaced with the ritual, but to detour toward ritual, toward something other than our violence, our desires, even good-intentioned, working toward violence; to seek the window pane that reflects our beautiful, artistic, hell-raising shit. And yet, without art, as a quest for pure embodied subject, peaceful demonstration and all, we amplify the violence we already share in. To me the closest shot we have at getting through this tragedy with a semblance of grace, is to somehow connect with an ancient threading, of a possible way, even as we succumb to the subject play. So again, the digital does an acceptable job for me, among these considerations of mine, that tend to be too literal for their own good, and now the focus is on physical medium, that works from the pane of the digital projects ancient threading, to return to the subject, in a way cognizant of how dark the activity is. Tea kettles, butterflies, human form, etc... There's something vicious about it, and yet, our best shot at some sense of threaded levity pulsing through all of us. Something that holds us among some connection, in which we remain bounded.
Constantine's Sword is this officiated subject play I think. This formality developed to organize and assist, and yet, a violent engine by design. As I return to the simpler forms, of work solely from a physical medium, the comfort of falling into a style, of relations to subject, and possible officiated form, the threading becomes frayed and weathered, if not fully separated. My approach intends on challenging this matter. I'm going to fail in many respects, but failure in relation to the subject-laden success I think, of an experience lived, among these other lived experiences.
This could be Talk-Talk, but it all works in relation to this embrace of an artistic hell. I just can't be a happy painter, or pretend my work has anything to do with beauty or peace. The ancient threading, highlights what my embrace of subject actually means. My previous lived experiences couldn't actually pretend I am some wonderful soul, here to guide everyone to a field of joy. I don't think any good creative process could be that at all. It's more or less, a disturbance, an acceptance of an uneasy relation, a friction, like pearls forming from granules of sand. The pearl itself seems graceful and harmonious, but the process involved couldn't actually be. This is what I mean. The pearl can offer a reflective glint of failing success, like this art matter that embraces subject, if not among the artistic form, then among the promotions and sharing of that form. People, all of us, are violent. We are not self-realized. We are not broken. We are not lost, nor are we found. Simply put, we are violent. The good we have sobers up to this and considers the ways we can impede the embrace of subject. Contemporary-Society though, isn't about being so good. No one is untouchable, and at some point, we are to fashion ourselves into a lively walking dead it seems. People as Darwinian Wasps, Zombies of their form selves, as brands, as successes, living it up for the moment, even if they can't fathom how dead they've become, again, no pulse, no ancient threading, just subject-bodies thriving.
That is, the way in which I relate to art wouldn't be such a good matter, and yet, I still desire the matter. There is this matter of violence, while embracing the subject, but the entire affair is non-unique. It's just a collateral damage of spinning around on a rock around a ball of fire for a time. It just offers connection in a sense that isn't as disingenuous as the Talk-Talk routine, even when we are deriving a computation. Genuine, in that we are more closely referencing lived experience, rather than promoted experience. I think our words are inherently promotional, and we veil with these words all the time. It's why I prefer not to fall into that trap of boxing in on the basis of such words. It's a given death to do so. One, at some point, can get over their promotional wisdoms, invoke some semblance of bound, and move away from promotional experience toward a form that reflects one engaged in a process. If there is no process though, one is simply quiet, embodied, and the subject, like a tour guide attracting more eyes to the surface, toward their own violent hell in the name of peace. Something like that. Something confirmed and officiated and always in relation that can assist with the officiating.
Art challenges the sword. It doesn't have to be Constatine's. We all have our swords. We all have our promoted selves. We all have our officiated selves, our subject-laden desires. Even art to me is going to be a failure, but we can still detour with it toward referencing a lived experience, of something non-literal, of something that doesn't require the need for these fine plays of colonial cultivation. I even consider my planning of subject form, in terms of physical medium, of which I do want to challenge in plenty of those works, specifying agency, and agency that becomes movement away, of the subject slipping away, of something we are all going through, somewhere between our remorse and gratitude, somewhere that doesn't involve our mirroring times, and yet among those times, to explore a context that overwhelms, to return toward something lived rather than promoted. The ancient threading seems lived, and the subject dividing promotions at the surface failing as our violent desires veiled take hold. I think we can all follow that, even among the failings/successes of wordage, this embrace of subject, there are rituals, there are forms that open-up toward a threading, toward a semblance of connection, that impedes our violence, that does more than offer failing offers of peace and beauty.
Power, Performance, Panopticon
So I am sitting down with someone assessing matters of Deleuze and Foucault it would seem, which isn't this inherently underhanded matter, though I fancy the assumption. Meaning, matters of critique in relation to the performative interest me. That is, I was among the collegiate debate at a time when NYU, Fort Hayes, and to a lesser extent, I was in a half-dedicated way, experimenting, while researching. Like art in relation to power, the performative is a critical matter in relation to formations of panopticon network, ever expanding among cameras and smartphones. Rockefeller gave a warning shot to me directly among our discussions over a short period of time, and yet, I just don't think anyone could follow what I was working on. It's not this matter of intending on winning as some victorious glasshouse figurine, merely caught up in ego. Rather, this would be a pattern among western culture, of these oscillations, these interactions between innovative interests and commercial interests, between fall-in-line, and create out-of-the-needed-box of sorts. So there wouldn't be this matter of antagonism or a need for enemies, regardless of the other. Rather, I'm just someone who isn't afraid to go at it, incessantly. Like Napoleon Dynamite, I've got skillzzz. I can mind fuck everyone, much like my band mates in the Slow Club era would note. It's an abstraction existence, much like among sterility, like the first hours of work, my eyes simply glaze among the sobering nothing. I like it. Like pickled ginger, it cleanses the mindful pallet to reconsider the whirlwind of creative endeavor, of this imagination play, of this key to learning, translating into interesting results. Of which, among hardened positionings the embrace reads like McBaise, of drain these waters always. I'm not so concerned. Rather, I am remaining toward cultural interest and this relation between power, performance, and panopticon. NYU, among the performative, of non-conventional approaches, won that year at both national tournaments with Zizek. Not to say it meant much. It didn't, but it was neat. The performative became this veil to the panopticon veil, that all teams realized, when dealing with a team immersed in the performative, there was little chance, even when everyone attempted to take on networked approaches, like sharing expando files. I think though, even though one offer the veil to the networked-veil, much like I can offer performatives of writing, performatives for the camera, for the ears and eyes, veiling as they observe, that still would offer a simple neutralizing form. It's not enough in relation to addressing the tower of the panopticon and opening society toward needed changes that stimulate needed developments, commercially, institutionally, and culturally. Living, that pulse. that dynamic resides, only when we serve as agents of change, otherwise we are merely looking living and hardening among a safe, sterile, predictability. I'm an 80s kid. I want to reside in a society with a pulse, among people, even among everyday society, out of their cell, interacting between, expressing in a meaningful way, rather than as snowflake spirits stuffed into meat bodies. Aristotle doesn't really get it for me, anyhow. So yes, even in New Orleans, Chicago, and the like...you want the panopticon abraision? I wonder why? How could this be used, for which Foucault is useful, in relation to that play. Give the order of the sun a burst, into the performative, into the narrative computation, of the newer institutional design, that minds cultivated by static medium, will by design, subject to. We have been here before, of which the artistry opens the cells and a renaissance commences, of a living that entices those of the tower to mingle, eventually, though not likely of my stubborn generation. Rather, the buddings, who can push matters much further, have the instrumentation they need, to do what is expected of western society, to continually utiliize what is needed to open the societies up, among the given tradition, this seat of power, that the performative in relation to the panopticon feed into. That is the panopticon isn't power at all, rather it's a pressure play, that can do well, in intensifying a creative type to drum up the needed instrumentation. I wouldn't see this as a failure for anyone, if we think about the patterns, throughout periods of western society. Still, when the panopticon continues, which doesn't have to involve in direct measure of power, but networks and the everyday level, in-need of being their own panopticon pressure, I'll perform in just the right way, within that context of Foucault. Which I imagine with the youth discussing how Deleuze and Foucault's concepts compare, which would serve as fallacy when we consider Deleuze's thoughts on discussing philosophical thoughts in the first place, still, the inquiry, can be that play, to somehow get at pretending one knows not of what a network does, even as one utilized the performative to veil to those veiling. This life is a lot like the American Gladiators, of meat puppeteers, of scripted cheering, of personas that are not even real. The contestants, are simply sought out in relation to what could be potentially weak in relation. Meaning, I used to sit at the TV and watch the show while my sister made fun of me for watching it, and yet, there was a lot there about our human existence and life experience. I think of the Gladiators of ancient times as well. We are taught to runaway from things it seems, like sex, drugs, and rock, once upon a time, now fully embraced at your local hot topic, if those even exist. Then, comes this new message to runaway from struggle, and join in among a network that can make everything just as it needs to be. The entire matter is one and the same, choose on the basis of fear, on the basis of your sentiment, so the meat machine can hold you as an encased soul. It's absurd, as if Plato's conception for example couldn't be? This psychological panopticon playing the same tune, to embrace a pulseless society, to celebrate the tower of panopticon, and yet, that wouldn't be western tradition, and there would be a cost in relation to the behavior. There are new things happening that feed into key avenues that hold interests for people. Libriatics, regardless of how we want to critique, which is inevitable, demonstrates that we haven't done it all, there are these matters that need to be developed, of which when the innovation comes through, those in a position to begin the commercial process have a responsibility, if there is any sense of that now. I say this, as I take note of the continuing panopticon, the continuing orientations in relation to my writing, all attempting to deflect what would be required to even hold a meeting of the mind, which would involve debates in relation to informatic methodology, which a colonial mind, of this language form I am using, couldn't actually respond to such activities of a language working from a dynamic form of arrangement, by design.
We'll see! If it is simply the irrational mind that is now to have their day in the fall of Rome rendition of a repeat, then it doesn't matter what I did, or how I challenge matters, I can simply be erased, or at least more veil to networked veil play will occur, as the performative raises to the networked performative. If we are holding to what was of the behaviors involving western tradition, then the innovative activities do matter, including ensuring there is respect for someone who drums this matter up; which would mean, this keeping tabs culture, among utilizations of a smartphone, would be a disruptive measure to American society, of which that ability and activity would be focused on and strictly limited, and violations punished. It's all new though, so I wouldn't harbor anger, even if the performative, among polemics, among the show the cameras, the eyes and ears, desire, as they incessantly follow, is more than will to offer the failing success for the successful failings. When you need to be empowered in that way, and in relation to activities that were the actual result to western success; when you can skip the books and join in on a network's irrational treatments, then it seems, especially in relation to me, you are on your way, and I, a mere waste, and yet in terms of actual tradition, seems like I've been doing what is needed.
It's not my place though to determine, so in the meantime...ART! Check out the art section of the site. As for the colonial heads gunning still, maybe one day when there is rigor to those noggins, they can finally get matters of narrative computation and dynamic language. Will it happen, at this rate of the Rise of Rome play in the West, there is serious doubt. When you can even offer modelings, and yet still, there isn't this out of the colonial waters moment, of realizing ones language among their "headspace" is of a static cultivation, now of a defunct institutional form, and I can judge that. It's a transitioning hell, to challenge what you know with, including dismantling underlying assumptions never challenged, toward something that once interacting with the matter, your relation to the society shifts, and I think this is for the better, considering the newer capacities that emerge from it, of which our existing commercial and institutional forms will not be able to compete or even respond to such power. It's coming. The cats out of the bag, so eventually, that matter will take on some form of fruition. What that will be, I'm not sure, but again, in the meantime, check out the art. For one of the projects, in a way that is intended to be, simply a fun take on a newer institutional form library, I'm using informatic models in relation to Deleuze to inform art themes.
In terms of influence, among our age of controversy, of a play of colonial context, I am happy to feed into these matters, again of a performative veiling in relation to panopticon veiling, and yet, once the newer institutional form is taken into account, of narrative computation, the meaning, is entirely unexpected. And there are positive influences among this path taken, and recently, since I like considering the conepts of other artists, Tyler the Creator, is certainly inspiring my responses to the tabs on the phone crowed, that like to hover around us, the hyper creative ones. Not as hatred but rather, veiling to the veil, the nondisclosures encountering the performative, of the activities aiming to gut out the creative process, such as reference 1, reference 2, reference 3 (MGMT), reference 4 (McBaise), reference 5 (McBaise).
Panopticon Flow
And when you are a network with phones, testing...enter Cuba's panopticon, of the way of emphasizing the citizenry no longer, as the very act assembles the irrational agency associated with cosmetic authority. It's a shame what's happening to America, all the time, and yet, there is a cost to the behavior which is associated with all the terrible repeats of his-tory by design. It's something I did with polemics, but this is the bridge, so this isn't that. Rather, even today, it's that lose-lose bind, of understaffing to absurdity, and let the network with cell phones keeping tabs, waltz in with plenty of questions (among a holiday rush crowed), so all can tank your department, which is a loss, or of course, one can clap back and keep matters afloat, which too can be used to cherry-pick anecdotes and run with characterizations. Again, a lose-lose can be power for a certain value system driving the networked play. The Panopticon is the lose lose. Good or bad, the eye, like the Ronald Firbank book openly embracing subhumanism, sets the irrationalizing embodiment, targeting, people of process into a lose lose, where regardless of what they do, the eyes will command the one to be subject to networked play...unless....Unless....you are the artist, of a production that presents to the eye. Then that counters to the lose-lose bind intended, by those dolled up in the mirror, and yet, orienting toward those on a margin in ways where it is clear what's going on. The nice-nothing entitlement on the surveil the other plan, and the other, on the "she bleeds" plan, which without the counter to the despotic axiomatic, the language lent, can be used in ways that are violent, to be sealed tight behind institutional walls. She bleeds, isn't as "nice" it would seem, in terms of the glasshouse, fully sipped up crowed. Yet, to be an artist, would certainly require these processes, these flows, these ways of connecting in a dynamic, interactive sense, and yet among our society, it is the institutionalize movent of developing one's endogenous growth in such a way that the transform into a block of ice, or if one doesn't like to play with words on a page, they can watch the TV, of story upon story, without cohesion, until all is irrationally on fire. It's fire and ice, with no in-between it seems. The Panopticon doesn't have to worry so much about the fire, among the TV crowed. They destroy themselves. Rather, there are the reader types, the intellectual types, the one's even considering the inner-workings of a grid system, that become an threat of interests, and so the new day for the panopticon, via our fine smart phones, has come into play. There hasn't be any regulation, so it is an all out free for all, in terms of civil society incarceration, via networked play, and without any measures to ensure it doesn't happen. It's happening for sure, but okay, it's more of a time to pretend today I think. So we pretend. For me, I'm simply the curious cat to all of this, to observe, the folks empowered by the smart phone play. Tight lipped, and yet those non-verbals at play. I don't really care about it too much. That is, I'm not so paranoid over some measure of one being out to get me, though, the behavior itself is certainly destructive to the basis of citizenry. Much like to be the "guy" in a panopticon prison, where there remains that push for a play of psychology that intends on propping up cosmetic authority. Where one is to experience the encounters with a surveil team in such a way where there is to be an exposure and veil. Where the watch tower is keeping notes for those who are in their cell behind bars. I think if you write, or if you keep to yourself, it's an easy feat for team panopticon. However, for the artist, for any matter of flow, not well contained behind bars, there becomes this instrumentation that by design, deflects the construct of the panopticon, as the self-motioning of the artist, the process, indicates, what the irrational file-stack cannot, of one deriving happiness not from the panopticon network, but rather from something that isn't so materialized, or in-need of a network's play of dirt empire. I think of this in relation to behaviors in the US that have paralleled Pre-WWII Germany, where there was surveillance, note taking, book keeping of people, their movements in everyday civilian life, that could be used, all of course involving anecdotal methods of construct, even if dolled up as "systematic." I think of the artists who before the holocaust were killed in CO2 chambers in the name humane care, to help those who can't help themselves. It's always the artists who the panopticon guns for. To work the panopticon doesn't have to keep tabs on everyone. They can't! They just need to hone in on someone on a design, likely without much a network to push back in relation, that can endure the treatments, and respond to the abrasions in a way that achieves panopticon psychology. It works among these words, so long as the relationship to the language remains in an established, colonial position, and there isn't a visual to counter the surveilled play, including axiomatics, in an unsaid way. In short, if the threat is painting Mickey Mouse, we all know who then is full of it. The oddity of this, would be when one doesn't have a record, or a superb academic record, it wouldn't matter, as the axiomatic, and the good word among the axiomatic, can still be used to solicit irrational minds in supporting, until there is a visual cue, to where minds, of irrational ease, sober up, and take note of what counteracts the deceit fed to them by "upright" "professional" personalities.
Again, it's not a polemic, and I do consider this a part of the bridge, in that there is a conceptual consideration, of a life among the Panopticon, in a cell, drying up the process, and then to take note of someone putting on a show in their cell. Someone, where the officers recognize quickly this isn't someone who is an actual threat, but the artist, addressing the panopticon network. This is the cosmetic play, that wants to use us to establish measures tied to totalitarian regime, the grouping, that like a particular column, would like to see the kids at heart destroyed, and their toys upon their own grave stone. When everyone can be plastic or else? Strive, race among your plastic brethren. Hold it down in such a superficial way, as a group guts the life out of any societal arrangement. Then again, the artistry always manages to reiterate the value-system of process, to raise awareness, of these matters intending on orienting minds to the surface, to dry matters up, until there is nothing left, including human value that our economic activity veils. Still, for a time, mesmerized by the mirror play, enjoying the panopticon life, the stack-file duty, eventually, especially among the artistry, a synapse occurs, and these matters of ancient agency re-emerge into a socializing consciousness, and these underhanded games cease. There becomes this cognizance of where we are headed among these so-called victors carrying on as if they painted a blue sky blue. To me, conceptually, it's the one in their cell, that has been putting on a show, first among themself. Then, eventually the creativity grows, where one has a set of skills that open one up to these processes, of which then those enforcing among the panopticon recognize the psychology at play, now juxtaposing with the show, of which those of the process are released, able to dance and create, full circle among their respective floors. The members of the tower take notes, collect, and continue to take their aim, and yet, that process running through, far greater than the aim a network does all to embody, juxtaposes, raising a challenge. To document the process, when one doesn't even have a rigor of process among themselves, of hypocritical and ignorant measure. It doesn't work. It never has. The artist, by design, becomes the nemesis for those of irrational agency, doing all to repeat, to a point where in the early stages of this, a grouping follows to target artists at all costs. Hold to the isolation, hold to the embodiment, and yet, such fine plays of isolation is mere breeding ground for the intensity of creative flow that destroys the panopticon network.
With art, there can be this play of all eyes on the process, which doesn't help a network doing all to cultivate all eyes on the embodiment, to place one into question, on the basis of what can be embodied, characterized, so long as one can stack the file enough. A lot of good people have been destroyed behind institutional walls with that play, even when they have good records. There's power, among associations with the panopticon, and yet, it will always remain vulnerable to the power of artistry. The visual articulating the rigor. The visual articulating the inner-desires, which by design, would be oriented toward one's process, which wouldn't be a threat at all to anyone. Even as they openly express their sour grapes to the panopticon network, looking the upright part, and yet on that underhanded play. The process of artistry, the process of mindful rigor translated into visual design, eventually spin what a group intended to come around to the one they target, into a go around that amplifies as they fail to hold the rigor to even respond what is exhibited for all to see. The guards in the tower, can't embody, if the process immerses, meeting at the visual, and then dismantling underhanded assertions, all of which rely on flawed, racist, methodology. To be a nice guy, of direct assertions, as a group stacks a falsified file of anecdote, of a groups quick text to a moment that could be collected, one morsel at a time, of racist construct. Artists can catch the play, and can certainly feed into the group activity, to offer the panopticon momentum, the come around, so the art can fire the go around right back at them. Hell is an art form away for the no hell in sight. From the dark ages to a renaissance...he attempts to dry up the womb of which he arrived, and she bleeds. She wins every time, but we can always strive. There is a lot of humor to this activity at this point. It's stupidity. It's ignorance, dolled up as otherwise. Stupid embracing stupid in the mirror, so let them bask in the light of their time. They are destined to their successful failure. With surveillance, they can be the universal. With material they can possess something among this rock spinning around fire. Have it all loves. You have file stacking and concrete assemblages. I have art and multiplicities. I have expression in the moment, as I bleed, and you have silence for an eternity, as you keep it tight. I'm interested in my art, so why so interested in me, to the point of outright surveil. I've been told by this group I'm a nice guys, so why not mean it? Maybe, I should embody as nice, to embrace the body as a cell, rather than a receptor; or maybe, I should break the glass when the panopticon is a bit too enthusiastic of my work in such a superficial manner. Artistry wouldn't actually desire endorsement. Rather, one remains oriented toward their process, and despises when networked measures aim to disrupt that, even in the name of "support." To cultivate the process only to embrace those who aim to gut out the process, wouldn't make such since for one's artistry, so let her bleed. Express in a way that wouldn't be of mere sentiment, but rather of challenges even to those of actual systematic methods. Find that Panopticon Flow, when the embodied play, into a cell, isn't a threat or a concern, of one with the rigors and skills to open up the cell, and to cultivate a process full circle, to assert measures, that even axiomatic play couldn't counter. Be free, in a substantial sense, and put on the needed show where those in the tower hop out to join festivity, the renaissance, of a new dynamic opening up, of what the West once was. The irony is there isn't this disdain for the panopticon, but rather the tower lights up, and the artistry is ready for a show, following what a nicety would mean, of which matters of process respond. So one is to be a sweetheart and nice, like a child, and yet, that wouldn't be possible in relation to matters of rigor, so the artist, drops trow, and then spreads their production on a wall in a design that disrupts the eyes to the surface and the superficially nice play. There can be something interacting between, rather than something stuffed in a meat body, in-need of saving. A body doesn't have to be a cell, so spread the productions at a level that keeps the mindless meat machine at bay, which requires orienting eyes back toward the rigors of mindful process. Design is everything, when considering the play of colonial power. Live as a process. Design as a process. The eyes have their tabs on you, bleed out, embody poorly, step out of the cell, then spread onto the walls, to display among the eyes matters unexpected and new. The challenge alone usurps that absurd colonial form, that intends on violent repeat. It doesn't happen when brilliant thinking emerges, which simply must, go unacknowledged among personalities too proud to ever come around as the go around chases them right down the panopticon stairs and straight out the door. It's simply a matter of time, as this entire pattern has happened before. Material is no match for the innovative processes. She always returns.
Not as some us-them victory, but rather, the interests invests into what becomes a mutuality, by design, not likely, by the generations caught into a dichotomy of their time, but the newer groupings, that have yet to even opt into some kind of panopticon induced rigor mortis. There can be a differing approach and a sound reception of newer form that could improve matters. A dead leaf, will simply feed the budding greenery at best, if one gets it, but if a glasshouse, all measures taking root, would remain encased. There would be no getting anything other than a delusion of one's trajectory as the guiding force, among a budding that finds silent humor in these successful failures, guiding the way toward the sky and sun, as if their emergence wasn't a consequence of an already given. Actual influence, would never be on the stage, and far removed from the gloss of a manufacturing lie. One, considering the ebbs and flows of this life, actually concerned with influence, in a way that actually helps their society, would be very much focused on and in-tune with this youthful budding, of a group that doesn't need a spectacle but newer instrumentation, newer cultural forms, of substance, rather than show, which takes a lifetime to produce, so the sourcing, of actual help, would be the responsibility of the group before them; But when everyone can be their own Marilyn in the mirror, who has time to uphold the very measure that has resulted in what we have from the previous generations.
Meaning, this is the consideration, of how those who left the panopticon tower from a previous movement, all find mutual interests, among the hallways, as the cells open up and people embrace an interactivity between, and yet, that interaction dries up. Soon, all return to cells, and the residents of the tower return. So when I consider the generational dynamic, this is what I mean, of the interactivity stagnating. When the generation before, attempts to hang the stars and moon, paint the blue sky, for the younger generation, to attempt for everyone to play it by the numbers, to play it nice, safe and sound, to encase matters as mere embodiment, to return to the panopticon tower, that hand off to the newer generation, marks the generation before. I'm just not into this notion that everything has been done before, even when my own work, exhibits it has not all been done, nor am I into this notion that the fading to grey personality on stage is the actual focus for what is needed. Again, there is a budding, of which actual influence is very much focused on handing off, not an all been done scenario, but rather newer form that changes a lot that a younger group can pick up and push matters toward further development. We'll see. It's a story of time really, far removed from the hopes of individualizing ego, and entirely omitted from the superficial hollowing of glasshouse ambitions and utopic futures aiming to distract among the rootless spectacle.
For fun, cross-apply the panopticon inc vid, and dead kids on a playground with dancing officers, and Ramones simulacra rat race. It could be gestalt, then again, it could be a consistency of patterns in relation to written record.