Lebbeus Woods (May 31, 1940 – October 30, 2012)

Sarajevo.

TVVV gardn

Pivot: Animal magnetism

What we called love poured out of the horns, moving to surface upon electrified spheres. The colors were pirated, downloaded from some other source, resembling a compressed version of the same. The hand brushed aside the forelock, the body bent at the waist as if to offer counsel. 




79.  There is a fixed law of nature that a reciprocal influence on all bodies exists, and this consequently affects all their constituent parts and properties.

80.  This reciprocal influence and the relationships between all coexistent bodies constitute what one calls magnetism.

160.  Humans are constantly situated within general and particular currents, and are permeated by these.

161.  Currents exit and enter the most protruding parts or extremities.

238.  If two beings are affecting each other, their respective positions are not insignificant. Two beings have the greatest influence on each each other if they are placed in such a way that their similar parts are precisely opposed. Consequently, two people must be face to face in order to have the strongest possible effect on each other. In this position they can be viewed as if they only constituted a single whole. From this it follows that one must touch the right side with the left arm and vice versa in order to maintain the harmony of the whole.

from Aphorismes de M. Mesmer, 1785. Franz Mesmer.

Pivot: transfer of affect

Pobrecito he breathed out as he lay dying. As I lay dying he thought. Not Faulkner he thought that's too clear a reference. Let's pin up a false wall so that I can roll my body behind it, he said out loud but there was no one. He had been stabbed. A stab and run. Some Greek trick. If only, he thought, if only someone would arrive. The tunnels were empty, and motherless. These tunnels led to Europe, led to Algiers, led to Moscow in 1989, led to a cavern of heliographic birds, led to a shapeless mass, led to a fanatical ascetic, led to all the seas and all the faces and all the right moments that all at once felt like an adrenal body begging to be released into use again.

Pivot: crypt

Taurine
encryption
/
decryption
spatiality
:

Pivot: Tauric bio virus / glitch

notes for taurine viral spatiality:

the wasp appends code to the hatchling

half man was the program

orchid DNA sequences \\ forensic paternity

belief in: the abrupt turn // the line of code

taurine sequence (driven mad by spirals even perhaps)

addressing the code at the edge of the lab(yrinth)

mutilation for Kantian objectives

genetic : Diogenes

no monad no dyad : circular / spatial / transferable

triad: humanity / animality (tauric modification) / spatiality

Pivot: Depressed wolf spiral

"It is probably relatively uncontroversial to conclude from all this that Derrida is not a werewolf. Werewolves are dissipated within a homolupic spiral that distances them utterly from all concern for decency or justice. Their feral physiologies are badly adapted to the depressive states conducive to ethical earnestness. Instead they are propelled by extremities of libidinal tension which fragment their movements, break up their tracks with jagged discontinuities, and infest their nerves with a burning malaise, so that each gesture is baked in a kiln of ferocity. Creatures of epidemic rather than hermeneutics, werewolves tend to be very crude, but then, they don't live as long as deconstructionists."

- Nick Land, "Spirit and Teeth."

"Moving Forward" by Rainer Maria Rilke

The deep parts of my life pour onward,

as if the river shores were opening out.

It seems that things are more like me now,

That I can see farther into paintings.

I feel closer to what language can't reach.

With my senses, as with birds, I climb

into the windy heaven, out of the oak,

in the ponds broken off from the sky

my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes. 

Translated by Robert Bly

paper supports

sea diagonals

four openings

He blinked, and you addressed him as one addresses shadows.


Again forces fell from the rafters like some dead bats fall.


The least among them achingly believed in dry-mouthed words like love.


She took a dive into a particular green density.

Grasps traps

Fending off dogs with a hooved lurch, I accepted that this was not a secret pact. This was not the sovereign agreement, the low feint that kept the king above water, with my horns passing just below the surface. Always moving, nomadic, without a place to rest. This was the house they built for me: only a series of turns, walking, walking. And then the dogs.

This void was no longer a void, but took on the choral structure of an agreement. We sing it together to force a bright home.

Body participation (Ray / Breton)

found foot VI

I wanted to be a painter, then a painter, then I wanted to be a painter. Suddenly the European collapse, and I was a pack animal, and afterwards I wanted to be a man with a whip.

There are no painters here because they got lost. They didn't have lights to guide them, they were dead on arrival, they didn't know where to look, so they looked everywhere. Those were days that left something to be desired.

There can never be enough new colors in a labyrinth. After a number of years here, I chose a new color, just for this wall. This wall will be brighter than all the other walls. I will paint it with this color, and if I have any left over, I'll throw it on the canvas.

found foot V

Here I was, only half-man, half-whatever, walking into a bar, and a guy yells out to me 'Let me tell you a joke.' I'm head down, slumped kinda, just wanted a whisky, and this guy yells out. I think: a guy walks into a bar, and a guy wants to tell him a joke, how good is this joke going to be, given that this guy is a stranger, and don't jokes require some kind of intimacy? And so I tell him, 'I don't like jokes' when in fact the truth is that I do like jokes, maybe more than the next guy, on account of my situation. And he yells out - something - but by then our moment had passed us, and the future shifted back to a unified field of ringing deafness.

found foot IV

No one talks about dreaming, because they are convinced that it is boring. The talking about, not the dreaming about. I don't like to talk about my dreams because they are clumsy. Or so I've been told. They lack the sophistication of other animal's dreams. There are only simple plot points, voice over narration, cheap costuming, fake hair.


I ate a dinner in the future where everything moved faster, even gravy. There was no doubt or time to doubt. Styrofoam bricks rolled out of grey warehouses with the new winds. The people gathered as many as they could carry and more.


They encouraged me to inflate my belly with air, to seem more imposing. It was a parlor trick, but in dim light it worked fine.


My tail traced a surprising line in the humid underground.

found foot III

The lights were too hot, I tried to field their questions, but without fail, they demanded quotas.

There were guesses as to new contacts, such as New Prussia, but I remained, in many ways, without a territory to hold.

Very slowly, in front of those lights, I started to build, using the cardboard they had brought, my own kingdom. It was cornered. The hand was up against one wall to guide it, and there were many walls. I broke down crying when it was finished.

My hooves dug into the loose topsoil, and my happiness was binding.

found foot II

I will become your bull, with the head of a man.
I will become your animal film.
I will become your horned tenderness towards.
I will become your failed synthesis.
I will become your transit speaker.
I will become your bull, with a bull's feet.
I will become your tracer bullet over the city.
I will become your labyrinthine heart sound.
I will become your graphological eye.
I will become your waymaking.
I will become your bull, with a furtive sound of bullness.

found foot

So, anyway, what happens when music synchronizes with footsteps, or rather, the sound of footsteps, clipping down the hall, open-ended like.

Those are moments that you are drawn to, as a listener, moments that you begin to believe in. Believing in was never something that I would have considered a talent. Believing in came in last on the list of debate topics.

The music, by the way, was plucking. Strings or something. It plucked while the feet clipped, and then alternated, as the sound that aligned. There was probably some Doppler effect, but these days, my ears are dull, and the fluorescents were buzzing. Although I was sure they didn't do that anymore but they do. I read that somewhere maybe the Times.

So those are moments that you are drawn to as a listener, when one thing synchronizes another thing and the world lines up with intention, and the visible and invisible sing in the same voice, not harmony exactly but at least cadence.

Robert Walser, dead, with footprints

on decoration with minotaur

fast

But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.

Spam poem 10.2

Тhе temoparry inlfux would Sооn be exauhsted, and tthe vvioleence also.

And boldly ventured on the liberties. 

His doubt and awe the search delayed. 

Concentrating all your force to forward them.