still not the stuff we are made of
January. 31. 2012
Revisiting an old post from September 15th 2009…two years older transcendence still evades, but the sorcery is ever more delightful.
take another little piece of my heart now baby
October. 24. 2009
Gripped with this sudden desire to go public and “be an artist properly” last month, I went and submitted some work to a local art show. I came home with a piece of my soul missing, or so it felt- this giant gaping hole left in my stomach where my beautiful charcoals used to be. I don’t want anyone to buy them.
I’ve never understood how people can part with their art.
Everything one make is a self portrait- it is a matter of course…the pieces of a soul are intrinsically embedded in its expression- the artist and the work of art are so to speak, monovular in their genesis and their synthesis. Like Rushdie’s Farishta bound to the Prophet, or a child to her mother- the creation is bound to the creator…
“We flow in both directions along the umbilical cord.”
-Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses
So how do you sever that sacred connection and let it go? It isn’t the selfish need to possess the thing that is made, more the fright of losing a piece of the self and becoming vulnerable.
I realize the irony of the situation- grossly enmeshed in it myself both as an artist and an architect. Nascent in the choice to make buildings for a living, there is an acceptance of the fact that our deconstructed identity will embellish everything we create- pieces of our souls scattered in every piece of architecture we touch. The scale of the profession leaves no choice in the matter- the Other and Otherness are both inherent in each reflection of the Self.
CeSRON
October. 4. 2009
As in- self reflection is obsolete today, in the age of narcissism the search for self is labyrinthine…what you see are attempts to architecturalize that notion of being and becoming and the tumultuous process herein…
Studies for CeSRON (Center for Self Reflection, Otherness and Narcissism). There must be questions about what the hell this is all about- so ASK!
not the stuff we are made of
September. 15. 2009
When I was eight I asked my mother why my brain couldn’t understand itself- “I” was a blank to my self, yet I could understand the external world. I’m twenty six, and still wondering. Answers anyone? Cognitive Science is endlessly intriguing…
The fundamental question has always been who we are. What is the “I” we refer to as our “self?” People often separate our minds from our bodies- our soul from the corporeal…but what is the soul if not the sum of our consciousness- that which exists in our very cells? What makes a thing a being? What makes you you and me me? How about this for an answer:
“Matter flows from place to place, and momentarily comes together to be you. Whatever you are therefore, you are not the stuff you of which you are made…”
-Richard Dawkins
(http://www.ted.com/talks/richard_dawkins_on_our_queer_universe.html)
We are, in essence, at every point in time- a confluence of numerous possibilities- never to be repeated- a rare, magical moment in the universe at any given time. Never are we the same, yet we continue to retain our “self” through this seamless aberration called life.
I always wonder why some people can see more magic in the world than others- why isn’t it more obvious to everyone how mind-blowing this existence really is?
Yes, yes, Quantum Mechanics helped explain a lot, but more importantly the field has made us stretch our imaginations with a little more abandon- and demonstrates the improbability that plagues what seems mundane.
The sorcery is delightful, and delight must be shared. Wherever this road may lead, I walk it seeking something beautiful…and hopefully sprinkle some of the magic along the way.
Where are the rest of you who seek something beautiful and won’t settle for anything less?
“I”
September. 24. 0201
Lacan wrote:
” The I is always in the field of the Other.”
