“That’s all any of us are: amateurs. We don’t live long enough to be anything else.” Charlie Chaplin Amateurs indeed, and yet – as with so many things – we perceive not only the implicit limitations of our minds (and lives, collectively – of cultures and civilisation) but also intuit the significant persistence of doubt, […]
I recently received several boxes of books that had once belonged to my father. He died around 10 years ago now and these books seem to be the last traces of his life left to touch my world in any material manner. I had the strangest sensation and revelation as I stood there and stared, […]
That boundary between the world as it is and as any of us would rather have it be is a stark cartography of relentless dissatisfaction. The expanding volume and referential space between what is and what might be is that labyrinthine, glorious confusion around which this, our own selves, orbit and upon which the essential […]
In what ways might melancholy and a gradual (or rapid, accelerating) slide into sadness or feelings of hopelessness be the natural heir of organic experience in a material world that is always and already dissonant with energy diffusion and the endemic thermodynamic burden of what amounts to irremediable emotional and corporeal loss and decay? All […]
Nothing kills pain like the opium of blind faith. It is easier to gaze upon death without eyes. What better way to engage with the horrifying fact and material inevitability of your own non-existence than by denying it exists?
Entering into life is always and ever to pass across an event horizon towards a dark infinity; all futures, freedom and choice trace an inevitable arc and trajectory towards singularity and extinction. Entropy provides limited degrees of freedom or choice but teleology binds us.
Travelling into the future is an inverse archaeology of entropy. There is some possible future, a singular branch of most probable outcomes in an undiscovered and unknowable configuration of ourselves towards which we all travel. A small consolation lies in being clever enough to decode this inexorable material process and abstract logical labyrinth of decay […]
Time…
Death. Life. Mortality. Absence. Emptiness.
None of us actually exist, at least not in the ways we generally believe that we do.
Consider this unravelling vessel, this body…
There’s nothing much particularly positive to say about this (image) beyond it being a specific instance and presence of a visually pleasing memorial aesthetic; perhaps, in passing reflection that death represents to our living experience a rupture and unanswerable question or otherwise unfinishable aphorism of self-expression. We can only understand or illustrate death and non-existence […]
