This journal is written in a special alphabet which I have
invented.
To see an example, select the image below.
This journal is written in a special alphabet which I have
invented.
To see an example, select the image below.
Well, here we go again. I've finally made good on my promise to myself to return to my previous method of recording thoughts ... the arcane script of Aaron Ross has made a comeback.
Exactly what this means is not entirely clear; just as it was shrouded in mystery the first time. However, this was certainly a more conscious decision. I also am much more aware of the social ramifications of this action. It will serve to further polarize the opinions of those who know me. There is the risk that some will think I'm a devil worshipper ... ludicrous as it may sound, it seems that it's happened before. However, there is also a segment of the population which will see this work as a strange attractor. A few of those may perceive alchemical transformations at work. Those are the ones I can address myself to without fear of insane projections and persecutions.
Why such concern with "external entanglements?" Ultimately, this work is personal and interior. Yet it's no secret that the work is accomplished through the mechanism of unconscious projection. Once again, your worst enemy is your best friend.
So if I seem overly concerned with the opinions of others, it's because that's where the work must be done. And what a fine work it is!
1/4/91
Emanations within the One
Bring forth all that one can see
The earth, the stars, the moon and sun
Fall like fruit from the tree.
A seed grows within the earth
An alchemist eats its flower
This little death is his rebirth
The Tree of Life pours forth its power.
"I am the seer of countless ages
I mount the tree which grows to ground
I see the folly of the sages
And of the world to which they're bound."
From this height, we all must fall
To make our world into Heaven
To find the One within all
And find the strength to fly again.
As I prepare to embark on this new semester, I think it appropriate to set to paper the plan behind TEMENOS. It is , of course, an alchemical experiment in perception, as all of my recent work is. A living, moving, symbolic representation of the self evolving through time.
Segment one: "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell"
From the formless chaos of unconsciousness comes the impossible: structured chaos. This orderly disorder is the first awakening of self-awareness. It is the reconciliation of the opposites. Pleroma and shunyata, sun and moon, good and evil, yin and yang are all found within the endless revolution of the mandala. This particular mandala is representative of the quaternary Godhead of the Aztecs, found on a Yucatan stone tablet by the famous humbug, Colonel James Churchward. The generative interactions of the fragments creates a greater unity. The self is its own alpha and omega.
Segment two: "The Dream of Reason"
In the second stage of this creation myth, Adam and Eve are stranded outside their temenos, their sacred circle. This is, of course, due to slavish selfishness and attachment to ego. Yet, the ego-consciousness brings with it the promise of a technological (psychological) utopia, where all things are at the service of reason. Yet again, as Dostoevsky has demonstrated, this is an impossible dream, and one which must result in psychic paralysis. The dream, however misguided, is based on the experience of oneness ... it's the methods which must be discarded. The torrefaction of gold is not a process which can be initiated by the ego. There is a place for reason in the scheme of things, but it is not the directing force.
Segment three: "The Sun as a Cool Solid"
The boundaries have been broken and areas of the psyche (brain) hitherto segregated are communicating with one another. This is the hypnotic trance state wherein consciousness is subdued, put at the service of the self, and directed to the task of interior exploration. Ordered chaos again manifests itself, and is revealed as the core, the source, the sun as a cool solid.
This level of organization is a fundamentally simple one. From a limited number of variables springs a complex pattern of behavior which never repeats itself. Once again, the feedback process creates images which symbolize the self, which is, in turn, the result of recursive cyclical transformations.
Segment four: "The Philosopher's Conquest"
Ultimately, the only conquest worth attaining is that of oneself. It is a holy grail never to be grasped, but merely to be gazed upon and to draw strength from. Its unity cannot be broken; the fragmentary nature of the psyche is mere appearance. Its phases of change are like that of the moon: the thing-in-itself is not altered ... it is only its visible appearance which seems to change.
1/9/91
The constant threat of financial ruin and poverty is one which makes it very difficult to concentrate on the important things in life, like my art. I sometimes fear that I will be forced to take a step down and work in an unpleasant job for which I am overqualified. Hopefully, however, my talents will be recognized by the "art world," academe, or both.
I am somewhat reassured by the success which Francçois seems to be enjoying. I feel that my work is equally deserving recognition. Unfortunately, I don't even have enough cash to pay entrance fees for film and video festivals. This, of course, is the result of mismanagement of CalArts over the years.
Actually, the institution is in a pickle very similar to my own. Who wants to fund an essentially subversive individual or organization? Only a few idealists, and idealists aren't likely to have money.
Can it be that wealth and integrity are mutually exclusive? If so, how can one at least maintain a status wherein the necessities of life and access to production facilities can be secured? If this entails even a slight compromise in my ideals, I don't think I can do it.
Every moment in life is a transition, but his particular point in time feels like a turning point. One of the reasons for coming to CalArts was the establishment of professional contacts. I guess it boils down, once again, to the development of social skills ... which, of course, have nothing to do with fine art.
1/20/91
Last night I had a very interesting dream, the meaning of which eluded me until I related it to my friend Pablo. As I recall it, I was again a character in a television program: this time a cheap TV movie. My character had little to do with the main personality known as "Aaron Ross," who stood outside of the action as a spectator.
This bifurcation into conscious ego and unconscious persona is one that is fairly common in my "TV dreams." Perhaps this is a framing device enabling my ego to see itself with a greater degree of "objectivity," whatever that means. At any rate, the separation is rarely total; there are usually moments in which I am submerged in the role and lose awareness of my "higher" status as a passive observer in the videoplay.
At any rate, my character was a member of a sixties-style commune with loose sexual values. It seemed to be composed almost solely of young hippie girls, who apparently had little better to do than fight over the character I portrayed. This character was a somewhat geekish boy who was too shy to actually have relations with any of the various girls. Actually, he wasn't that desirable of an item, but he was the only man around, so ....
Unable to deal with the dilemma of "water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink," our hero fled from the scene, out into the desert, where he would at least not be tormented. Unfortunately, the pain only reached new heights. In fact, it became positively virulent, taking the form of a viral infection of the blood ... a bizarre sort of leukemia.
Out in the desert, the boy succumbs to this sickness and ends up prostrate on the sand. A shadowy figure approaches: a man dressed in black. His face is a skull. He is dressed in a tuxedo ... it is Ghede, Haitian loa of death!
This is an a posteriori realization. At the time of the encounter, I (the boy) was too delirious to recognize the god. He performed a ritual healing upon "me" by first breathing into my mouth, then mounting me and ejaculating on my abdomen. At the moment of the respiratory resuscitation, the scene dissolves to a computer graphic depicting the viruses being neutralized by the penetrating arrows representing Ghede's spirit medicine.
The "consummation" of the ritual is achieved when the god anoints me with the regenerative sperm. At that moment, the dream ends.
I see this as a "slight return" of the trickster figure of Mephistophelean fame. He is, however, in a different avatar, just to show that the shadow is not the incarnation of evil, as we are led to believe by the repressive external "powers that be."
This is a very positive sign. It is certainly indicative that alchemical work is indeed being done. It's not zooming past me without being recognized and documented, either. I'm anxious to see the next episode in this drama. I have a hunch we have a miniseries to watch and enjoy, as well as analyze and learn from. Now, is it possible to consciously extend this inner projection over time? If so, my "grey magic" will indeed be working.
1/25/91
Where is the violence of the dream? What has become of the pressures of entelechy? I must needs regain my grounding in the invisible world.
One hypothesis regarding this dreadful dearth of dread: the ubiquity of mundane preoccupations such as scraping together enough cash to maintain my bodily functions. What an unfortunate circumstance for an entity of my state of evolution!
Rather than wallow in obscurity, I have decided that I will obtain the stability I've strived for ... at all costs. If I must sell my soul to the company, so be it. They'll be buying the Brooklyn Bridge, because the soul is a nonexistent thing.
(Making rock videos will be the ticket to my damnation.)
However, I will redeem myself with my alchemical explorations in virtual reality and elsewhere. Yet still, I must have the time to devote to psychological spelunking if any of this work is to have lasting import or trance formative potential.
6/3/91
Last night Chris and I went completely insane in the Mod, scaring the guards with my quad Buchla pulsations of l'amour fou. And there was much rejoicing.
What a godliness! The ground shook, and we were buried alive by a sonic assault.
Now I am planning to set up live feedback with Channel 8 gear to augment this insanity. Chris and I must reserve space for the the Mod in the first week of school. A party, even ... we'll fry.
We'll skim the rings of Saturn, burn the candle at three ends and return to where we've ever been. Hopefully drag a few unsuspecting young souls down with us.
Arms coming out of the ground. Bizarre rituals invoking Cthulu. Shining, glorious, pure vision of the Clear Light of the Void.
Beyond nirvana, into uncharted territory. A place where our physical laws do not apply. The 47th bardo on the left. Just past Mephisto Drive. Need a lift?
I must guard myself against the revelation of arcane knowledge to the Philistines. Perhaps a new hierarchy?
6/9/91
This cyberpunk business needs direction. How about directly into the the mind? The first thing I want is my brain on optical disk. The first thing I want instant knowledge of is four-dimensional alchemy. The primary goal of all this is the liberation of t he unconscious. It is inevitable that human beings will develop sufficient technologies emulating telepathy, reincarnation, etc. (with an eye on matter transmutation). Will any significant ground be broken in the quest for unity?
Or are we just opening another can of metaphysical worms? Dare we tread in places where the supernatural resides? Hypothetical multidimensional intelligences are none other than "the gods." Are we ready to dial O for Olympus? Could this genuinely explain paranormal phenomena and the ubiquity of archetypal forms?
The concrete existence of deities rendered virtual by interactive computer systems. This is the immediate goal re virtual reality. The pantheon in your head.
There are always those times when you feel that something is manipulating you and your environment?
Maybe it's just the ....
6/10/91
How does it feel to be a rotting corpse in N dimensions? Does this reflect the deepest ripple in the pool? Is the concept of angst merely wishful thinking?
Surely an infusion of organic chemicals will get to the heart of it. The machine stops.
Those goonigoogoos are real and they have me on file. Luckily, I have my own operatives in the field, and they keep me briefed on the strategies.
Neither metaphysics nor metaphor. Direct access now! Give me the tools and we'll end up running the joint! (Oh, by the way ...) Or be run by it. Grafted to the hull again.
There is no hull. There is no space. There is no "I." There is no "is."
That birth canal image again.
The tunnel of blue flame!
The frame is broken, the art escapes.
Somewhere is a soul called "Ida."
The 1/4" jack in my skull is an output.
Burn the tree of life; toast marshmallows at twilight. Count out a prime number ... what is its name?
23
Thanks to the Arabs, we have a name.
How about "swallowtail catastrophe?"
6/11/91
The concepts of living and inert become blurred when we consider flocking behavior in computers. The case for artificial life is very good. Soon discorporate entities will be living in virtual worlds ... entities with as much right to life as ... you!
Hyper-paranoia may result, or we may consider it what it is: evolution in action. Let's embrace it, exploit it; keep ourselves alive ... maybe indefinitely in RAM data matrices in portable computers.
Everybody has equal rights.
6/11/91
What do you know about reality?
I am reality?
Much to the terror of repressed normals, the infinite expansion of consciousness now appears as immediate as it is inexorable. No amount of media hypnosis or gestapo tactics can quash the underground psycho-evolutionary movement.
This is self-evident given the premise of "survival of the fittest." In a world where pure information is as necessary and ubiquitous as air and water, those with the greatest and most subtle abilities to manipulate that information will of course dominate the environment. The natural process of evolution will now be accelerated at an exponential rate, because it is being consciously directed.
The only thing holding the human race (and, more importantly, "nature") from making quantum leaps is the existing and self-perpetuating greed so common to "civilization." As long as the populace prefers bimmers over brain machines, no significant progress can be made on the macroscopic level.
However, this is only because the mass mind has not yet realized the transitory nature of phenomena and still clings to matter as if it had substance. It is the privilege and the duty of artists, philosophers, and scientists to demonstrate that reality is experience, interior and subjective. Technology is furniture (unless it writes poetry). All that matters in the end is consciousness ... pure information.
This psychic evolution is intimately coupled with social revolution, and thus the repressive ruling class is fighting it tooth and nail. This explains censorship, prohibition, and the New Kids On The Block. The monolithic power of the corporate/governmental leviathan is intimidating, but its reptilian stupidity is easily fooled into destroying itself. The saurian giants will soon be extinct, to be replaced by new species of warm-blooded creatures, more adaptable and efficient.
We are those creatures! We are the moles, the rodents calmly watching the death of the dinosaurs. And, if we each dedicate ourselves to the task of inner unification, make the necessary info-links among ourselves, and actively seek the destruction of conventions and restrictions, the general public will be easily swayed to join us in cyberspace.
All hail the postmodern bodhisattvas!
6/21/91
A few moments ago, I got a direct word from the unconscious ... without so much as a request for an audience.
The gist of the conversation concerned the internal structure of my mind. My understanding of it is that the "true self" is to the ego as the ego is to the persona. It's like an onion.
Each successive layer one peels off is harder, firmer, more real. Data compression as psychic metaphor.
My persona is my shadow. It is under the control of the trickster shaman, the animus. Meanwhile, the personification of mystery, the anima, resides in the center ... sitting on her cut glass throne. Happy family one hand clap.
This minor revelation is probably meant as compensation for the external entanglements which are fucking me up. Yes, mother, I hear you. I'm waiting here, I'm lonely.
We wait in hope, we don't expect.
Mani khum khata ipswitch.
12/1/91
Random thoughts do not exist
Give your psyche the pneumatic twist
Then you'll see the glass onion
Then you'll feel you've come undun.
Lose your marbles, your crystal palace
Need direction? Go ask Alice
Split that atom, burn that tree
All that's left is you and me
You and me.
The song I sing is true to heart
I know the secrets of the art
I hear those voices, they chant my name
Eat the moon, you'll feel the same.
12/1/91
Yet again, he spoke of angels and devils ...
He dreamt of magic towers and secret gardens ...
While death presided over the herd of tormented souls ...
Searching endlessly for the calm, dreaded warmth of the womb ...
He heard a name spoken in a cloud of rainbows ...
A name with no face other than his very own ...
She whispers, thunders roar.
12/18/91
"Listen to me," he said
"I made you make them."
And I froze
The mirror has spoken.
Outside, the throng mills about
Unwilling to take the plunge
Chirping of gas bills and meters
Trapped in the planet of clocks.
Water flows, reaches the surface
As I reflect in silence
Light creeps along the edges
And I wonder who hears me weep.
Tonight the sun shines darkly.
1/2/92
The translation is made
Without reference to the book
The spirit, not the letter
Shall be followed herein.
Washed up on the shore
The tablet speaks in tongues
Fiery letters sear my eyes
As I throw the message in.
They sing to me at midnight
And take their curtain calls
It's secret and silent
This is a recording.
I wait for the cord to snap.
1/9/92
... I love you.
That goes without saying.
Will you help me?
I am you. We must be one.
From outside, one skin. Inside, fragments of photographs and mirrors.
This is not a pipe. Search yourself within. Without me, you are nothing. Taste it on your tongue. Grasp its quivering flesh in the moonlight. Failure to comply will incite Wotan's wrath.
The inner power struggle ...
Nein, mein Gott! Aspartame and Nyquil as libations will not suffice. The moon calls us to the underworld. The atom is indivisible.
The sine qua non.
Preposterousness is a disease. Sing the body electric. Pale blue fire licks your face ... keeping the windows bright. You underestimate your abilities. You are the virtual boy. Weave your pattern, pour your light. We will fuse your core. Accept the lack of responsibility; dither not with gas bills. Cornerstone hip gnosis!
The web of associations springing from "bingo bongo goes to congo" is infinite and unfathomably complex.
The hoped-for spell. You shouldn't look outside yourself for these powers. We, the apparitions, know the Skor. Stay tuned to the feedback channel. It is done by doing. No more talk. See my light pour into yours? The colors mix so beautifully! I love you; I am love. We are not two.
What a tough act to follow!
1/16/92
Persephone
Won't you come below?
I've ravaged your body
And now I want your soul.
I rule in the abyss
Deep beneath the earth
The the halls of the dead
Souls seeking rebirth.
Rising from the depths
Of eternal despair
I saw you in a vision
Of beauty beyond compare.
You will know the quiet and
Stillness of the tomb
I will lie in your grave
And hide within your womb.
Immortal Queen of the Night
We shall reign together
In the caverns of death
A moment held forever.
6/12/92
This mandala is a projection of the mystic double pyramid into two-dimensional space. It represents the physical and temporal structure of the homonculus, as per alchemy. Jung's diagrams of the anthropos (in Aion) have exerted their influence ....
In addition, this sign offers a geometrical solution to the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa: "One becomes two, two becomes three, and out of the third comes the one as the fourth." I have inscribed the triangle and the square within unity. They share a common vertex ... their energies combine to determine the future of the self ... upstream causality via synthesis of opposing forces.
The function of the mandala is to stabilize psycho-sexual impulses. This will allow my persona to communicate the essence of my being more directly with potential mates. It is a spiritual prosthesis.
By mapping out these internal territories, I am more prepared to deal with external reality. The number of variables is reduced. However, I will not rely on such devices overmuch; that would be folly.
Crank that engine!
7/30/92
My thoughts are spinning, stemming, spewing
Out to space beyond the clouds
My finger draws down the moon
The two are one, so it's allowed.
Eggs threaten my life tonight
As astral bodies dance and pray
Tuning in to feedback chorus
Singing of the perfect day.
Frozen wastes give way to cells
Growing closer every day
Tombs and palaces line the path
Along the everlasting way.
The way which cannot be named.
11/11/92
The following drawing is a map which appeared in a dream and inspired the poem, "The Way." It is a two-dimensional projection of an allegorical landscape. The path of life is clearly shown.
We start in the lower left at the coffin marked "birth." From there we pass through a void to reach corporeality, indicated by the organism at the center. My position at the present moment is displayed as a dot labeled "You are here."
A cyclopean eye in the middle of this veiny organism represents the perfection of enlightenment. We are free to remain in that spot as long as desired; it is a point standing outside of time.
To the left of our path is Gehenna, a wasted landscape inhabited by tormented souls, who are bodiless and invisible. On the right are two stone monuments corresponding to a personal Hades and Olympus. The implication is that both are distractions from the path ... one resulting from inertia (Hades) and one from false security (Olympus).
Predictably, we will move through the astral void once more to reach death. However, by subverting time and space, we can maintain eternal epiphany in the central processor.
11/14/92
|
MULTIMEDIA VIDEO ART INTERNET RADIO RESUME TEACHING WRITING HOME |
