Local image #90
2024, Acylic on board, 30x30cm
R990.00
18 January 2024
Bending, buckling the surface. Why? The appearance of disruption of the smooth surface, cutting a flat surface, a continuum, into categories, making boundaries, building frames, cutting up reality into concepts, a digital storm, a complex dynamic.
Storm, lightning, and thunder, like from the throne of God in Revelations.
Differentiating, the process of differentiation, incomplete differentiation causing holes and gaps and invisibilities, obscuring 'things,' concealing 'things,' re-differentiation, causing 'things' to appear.
'Things' are shy, like duikers. They only come out when all externality is gone, all ego is gone, all selfishness is gone. Differentiation by selflessness, letting go of myself to gain life. A reversal it seems, seemingly a reversal, but repeating my origin, the bottom layer, repeating the primal.
Emerging from the womb, falling into the world, into the symbolic realm, into society, and navigating my way back out again, a repetition.
Repetitions within repetitions.
Vague tracks in the surface, like furrows in a field, as if a farmer has ploughed here and planted seeds lying dormant, waiting to grow. The weeds along with the wheat, vines producing fruit, offering it to others, having it rejected because I'm now superior. And I'm not perfect.
Will you only receive fruit from someone who is your equal and perfect? A paradox, an oxymoron, a tie, a bond preventing blessing, for you are not perfect either. Please don't add arrogance to your list of sins by saying you are perfect. We have to accept fruit from imperfect people because no one is perfect.
Rotting, the smell of rotting flesh, the stench, the odor, the perfume, fish sauce, flavoring food. Just the right amount tastes good, rotting fish on my food, death on my food, undoing the curse, making an aesthetic that tastes good, that feels good.
Our aesthetic guides us to good; the more developed our aesthetic, the more strange and weird it becomes, the more it includes death, accepts death, draws us toward death until we are ready to die, to move on into eternity, death the final selfless act.
Who knew death would be lurking in these blue waves?
Bending, buckling the surface. Why? The appearance of disruption of the smooth surface, cutting a flat surface, a continuum, into categories, making boundaries, building frames, cutting up reality into concepts, a digital storm, a complex dynamic.
Storm, lightning, and thunder, like from the throne of God in Revelations.
Differentiating, the process of differentiation, incomplete differentiation causing holes and gaps and invisibilities, obscuring 'things,' concealing 'things,' re-differentiation, causing 'things' to appear.
'Things' are shy, like duikers. They only come out when all externality is gone, all ego is gone, all selfishness is gone. Differentiation by selflessness, letting go of myself to gain life. A reversal it seems, seemingly a reversal, but repeating my origin, the bottom layer, repeating the primal.
Emerging from the womb, falling into the world, into the symbolic realm, into society, and navigating my way back out again, a repetition.
Repetitions within repetitions.
Vague tracks in the surface, like furrows in a field, as if a farmer has ploughed here and planted seeds lying dormant, waiting to grow. The weeds along with the wheat, vines producing fruit, offering it to others, having it rejected because I'm now superior. And I'm not perfect.
Will you only receive fruit from someone who is your equal and perfect? A paradox, an oxymoron, a tie, a bond preventing blessing, for you are not perfect either. Please don't add arrogance to your list of sins by saying you are perfect. We have to accept fruit from imperfect people because no one is perfect.
Rotting, the smell of rotting flesh, the stench, the odor, the perfume, fish sauce, flavoring food. Just the right amount tastes good, rotting fish on my food, death on my food, undoing the curse, making an aesthetic that tastes good, that feels good.
Our aesthetic guides us to good; the more developed our aesthetic, the more strange and weird it becomes, the more it includes death, accepts death, draws us toward death until we are ready to die, to move on into eternity, death the final selfless act.
Who knew death would be lurking in these blue waves?