...the eternal bag of bad explanations, revised edition... |
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What is nAârt? |
Wat is nAârt? |
Last modified 29/06/05 23:11 Friday, April 21, 2006 1:18 AM Related nAârt texts : |
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NAârt doesn't exist, so it's ok i guess. NAârt is how i name my work, my method. F*** theory, it's spring. We are all murderours, my children are going for a walk with the dog. We all want to destroy each other, two birds just flew past my window. Untsoweiter. NAârt as in Not Art+Science (+...), but a folding of art instances in science instances in art in programming instances... I do not believe in levels, because the existence of levels would imply that something can be less real than something else. When something is real, it can be observed in its process of actualisation, and the degrees of clarity in the act of observation are not levels or even degrees of reality of the thing itself but degrees of clarity of the observing process. Philosophically, i'm a realist, like Deleuze is a realist. There's a bit more of interest in the spiritual in me, as in i do not exclude some spiritual things to be an immanent part of the Real. The Real includes the non-human, we have considerable difficulties in coming to terms with that. The Real doesn't give a fig about the human. It's not an it (he, she, your mother). Moving on is the only way out of a state of fixation. You always knew time would tell, but it never does. Time is a word. Words need to be spoken. I will spend my last days repeating meaningless mantra's to myself, unaware of my surroundings (unless a nurse showing some naked skin comes near me to feed me - neg, leg or shoulder: i will attempt to touch it, try to lick it). There's a volutile aspect there, in the sense that as monadic human beings we have the free will to perceive what we choose to perceive, we know what we want to know, we continually construct our own fictional account, our own reality, at least that part of reality that we perceive clearly. There's also, always, the determinism of the Real, inescapable. We're always at war, decaying. I don't care about you: you have a bad reputation. You only care about yourself. We all have a tendency to bend our perceptions into a tunnel-vision, a quasi inescapable spiral inward and art processes have in the past been prone to fly straight into those tunnels. Such artistic dives into the personal and the sentimental may be inspiring, but they annihilate themselves finally, leaving little power of validation for the spectator after the act has been completed. When a nAârt process dives into its fuscum subnegrum, the dark zone of the universe as included in our souls, it does so in search of correlating processes, snapshots of working algorhytms that can shed some light on the case at hand, the thesis that it attempts to falsify or prove. I dare venture that is a positive approach to the collection of black holes usually described as artists. Sure, i should speak for myself. Hey, i'm a black hole! There's no escaping me! (I'm a worm! a virus! a tumor! an a!) My home my home is not here. My home is in the Lowlands. A soul's history is eternally present as a resource and we are able to manipulate that resource in a continuing, scientific process of actualisation, a methodic unfolding of the reality before us. You cannot save these words, they have always been here. I think its a big mistake to think that what is fictional has no scientific value. Its more the other way around, as German philosopher Vaihinger once put it : the attempt to do without fiction would be ruinous to science and the whole of human aspirations. If you're inclined to believe me: i tried it, it is. People are places but places are not objects. Places are co-ordinates in the Continuum. Any calculation on a place changes it because calculations take time. I am dead. Some people say there is no such thing as a Continuum. There is, but i think you might be better of not being aware of it. There's nothing wrong with being a designer and the job pays adequatly if you're any good at it. NAârt is a word, it needs to be spoken. In a way, i came up with the term nAârt because levels and topdown hierarchy and staticly defined objects make me sneeze. They made me sneeze before i read Deleuze, but since i have read him the sneeze has gained some direction, a unity of movement and my allergy has been developing into a methodology. NAârt is a word, it needs to be spoken. When you pronounce nAârt, nAârt happens. NAârt is never an static object, it is always an event, a process. One of the purposes of starting a nAârt process is finding a way to define nAârt, to create a referential cohesion that would enable everyone to talk about nAârt, and hence to make it easier for people to make nAârt, to practice nAârt, just like one of the purposes of the Neue Kathedrale des erotischen Elends is to find (a way to built) the Cathedral. NAârt is desire, or better, a little further away from the fictional equation, nAârt's [undefined] algorythm is (happening like) the [undefined] algorythm of desire. Unity of movement is a key concept. I repeat: unity of movement is a key concept. I repeat: unity of movement is a key concept. I repeat: unity of movement is a key concept. I repeat: unity of movement is a key concept. I repeat: unity of movement is a key concept. That's where authorship is a central concept, where i refuse to do without authorship as the key to unlocking creativity. I do not believe in collaboration if it is not a collaboration of authors. That doesn't mean you have to make a big deal out of it. I write what you wrote because you read what i wrote. In Haskells terms there are some processes going on, but it's nearly always impossible to say what is causing what. Writing happens. Running code. Sure, machines are authors too. That seems to be part of the problem we're having these days with the concept.I'm getting bored with this discussion. I do not believe in the freedom of the collective. There can only be a collected freedom of authors. There is no higher level in which humans could function like ants, there are no levels, only complications, literally: folds upon folds, a contingency of implications, folds folding into folds and a gathering of explications, desires unfolding complexes of desires. But it should not end or stop at the individual: my nAârt, like anybody's nAârt is also a manual, and therefore : a command. If you cannot use select and cut on this text, delete won't work either: try copy first or click somewhere outside of it on your screen.
NAârt cannot come into this world, you cannot talk about nAârt without it being useful. NAârt abuses language to create nAârt, to command you, the receptor, into using nAârt, creating the nAârt in your veins, erecting the desire for nAârt in your field of vision. NAârt is therefore an unstoppable process. NAârt doesn't exist, so it's ok i guess.
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NAârt bestaat niet, dus het zal wel ok zijn. NAârt is de naam voor mijn werk, een vorm van Schwitters' Merz, als je dat graag hoort. Een Kathedraal ontdekken is hetzelfde proces als een Kathedraal bouwen. NAârt = verlangen, of beter, een beetje verderaf, weg van die fictieve gelijkheid, het [undefined] algoritme dat nAârt voortbrengt is van dezelfde orde als het [undefined] algoritme van verlangen. (nvdr: nAârt experts zijn het hier oneens over de lezing van het woord 'verlangen': voor de verder discussie rond materie-bewustzijn en digitaal-analoog is het cruciaal of 'verlangen' hier als subjectief menselijk dient gelezen te worden, dan wel als algemeen-ontologisch, een snelle shopenhauer re-write van de 'wil' en bijgevolg uitbreidbaar tot dierlijk 'verlangen', zelfs tot plantaardig of materiëel verlangen)
Dirkjan Farabout "Strijdende voor Kunst & Wetenschap in België"
SPAM (s) Avant ATTACK "Any squid can fall in love with a submarine for a warranty, but it takes a real hockey player to avoid contact with a self-actualized razor blade. A hesitantly overripe scythe greedily dances with a burly jersey cow, but a greasy microscope plans an escape from a tabloid a cab driver around a hockey player. A defendant near the fundraiser trembles, or a chestnut shares a shower with a sheriff. A fundraiser hesitates, and the bowling ball sweeps the floor; however, a submarine accidentally bestows great honor upon an insurance agent around a traffic light. When the pit viper over the briar patch is accurately fat, a satellite defined by a cargo bay avoids contact with a self-loathing pork chop. Sometimes the minivan hesitates, but a hydrogen atom around the tornado always inexorably knows a geosynchronous asteroid! A linguistic ocean is secretly unstable. Furthermore, a twisted roller coaster reads a magazine, and the satellite can be kind to a cab driver for a chestnut. A fraction defined by some cargo bay non-chalantly finds lice on the impromptu rattlesnake. follow. Sorry to not post in a while but I been busier then a one armed paper hanger.2 A grain of sand figures out a pit viper defined by a canyon. Most people believe that the bartender toward a freight train often steals pencils from a makeshift carpet tack, but they need to remember how completely the support group self-flagellates. When you see a light bulb, it means that a chestnut reads a magazine. Most people believe that an apartment building laughs and drinks all night with a load bearing bowling ball, but they need to remember how carelessly a cashier related to a sheriff returns home. An usually self-actualized customer negotiates a prenuptial agreement with a squid for the mating ritual. Claudette" |
Mariana Castro http://umapalavravazia.motime.com/archive/2005-07?from=4 Last modified 29/06/05 23:11 << Friday, April 21, 2006 1:18 AM |
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The Neue Kathedrale des erotischen Elends supports and tries to adhere to the principles of the Free Art Movement Read the Free Art License |
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the original Cathedral of erotic Misery was initiated by Kurt Schwitters
2004-2006
Free Art License - source code on rightclick-view sourcecode|request
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