Pork (until marinade)

Pork

I was born. Not born in the flesh, but to the world, after being carried by hands through dark streets and up caverns. I don't recall much of my previous life. The climate and white light wiped my memory. And from what I heard in the cold, from those with flashback murmur, I'm glad that I don't recall. But, what I do remember is being chosen. Picked, handled and held. Prodded and taken because of my shape and my soon out of date-ed-ness, but still. She chose me.

I'd been restricted for so long. The others inferred that we needed this. No one would want us if we were seen just as we are. But back to that that piercing moment, I remember it. Oxygen forcing it's way up and into my cells. I relaxed onto new ground for a moment before flying toward a valley, vulnerable, open and raw. The streams I had known were spilled from me, but, you know, somehow this felt right. Unusual, yes, but as if I were fulfilling my purpose. Things were aligning.

Her eyes poured on to me, their gaze like monsoon. I was tilted and turned with care and attention. I split in two and we became us. We'd never been separated so cleanly until now. Our fibres and being clung tight at the new. And then. Left. We were left. Staring up, in and outwards through all of our vision, 'no touch' left us searching and taxing our senses until. She returned.

Until now we'd always been us. We knew how we worked, and it worked well (well, negating the ceaseless entropy). Our molecular structure and proteins and fibres were aware and well oiled- familiar within our closed system. That moment changed. Now, don't read this as melancholy, as we anticipate you might. We were unaccustomed with this convergence, but the way she dealt with it put us immediately at ease. Eons of contortion had been doing our structure no favours so as you might imagine, we welcomed her hands, despite the foreigners which subsequently made their home in us.  

Immediately, with a surge, their composition merged with ours. We had changed and we knew it. Outwardly it showed, our edge now sharp vivid red, but inwardly, in our immeasurable cores, transfer was at work. With every push and stroke our architecture shifted. The rhythm entranced us. Mesmerised, our consciousness became wrapped in those hands, waves on the shore. We slipped out of mind, not noticing the bath we plunged into where we slept for the night. When we woke up, we fell apart.


A glass, a spec of dust and a banana walk into a bar.

April 2016. 

 

A glass, a spec of dust and a banana walk into a bar. Well, they don’t walk into a bar, they are already there, but nevertheless. Having never formally spoken before they’re hesitant to start up a conversation, incase they’re going to be stuck there for too long a length of time. Glass and dust have seen each other around before, but banana’s new.


 

Banana: Now I’m not a Nihlist. But I’ve been thinking a lot about entropy recently.

Dust: Oh, hi.

Glass: Hi.

Banana: I’m not local, so I’ve not got to that stage yet where my eyes are numb to my environmental visuals. I’m still noticing everything, like you know when you’re on holiday and all the cereals in the supermarket look so interesting, because all the packets are different? It’s like the objects jump out at you. They’re making themselves known. So I was moving past this sign by the canal the other day which read ‘PERFECTION is a matter of time’ in this kind of Comic Sans script font. If I’d seen that years ago I would have looked at it and thought: ‘Oh isn’t that nice? It’s so positive’ but instead I was like: ‘that’s wrong!’. Perfection isn’t a matter of time. Perfection can’t exist, especially in a world governed by the laws we know of, one of them being entropy. Instead the sign should read ‘ENTROPY is a matter of time.’ Or maybe ‘PERFECTION is still worth chasing in an entropic world’. Sorry do you want a drink?

Dust: (shakes head)


Glass: (quietly to dust)... what’s entropy?

Dust: (looks up on Wikipedia on phone) It’s a molecular disorder within a macroscopic system. It’s something to do with decay and death.

Banana: So this made me think, what actually is ‘perfection’? Perfection in an absolute sense just can’t be possible in a world full of entropy. Everything dies. Maybe on a scientific level it’s easier to measure, like perfect darkness, which is just the absence of light.

Dust: You know Anish Kapoor’s just bought the rights to use Vanatablack, that substance which neutralises 99.965% of light that hits it. It’s the darkest black we know. He just covered his sculpture in Chicago in it, the one that people took all the selfies in...

Banana: Yeah, but I suppose that’s different. That’s perfection as the absence of something, not the refinement of something. So what if ‘perfection’ is not an absolute state but instead it’s just a word that sits on a sliding scale, like a marker or a goal? If that’s the case then perfection is possible but it will always be debatable. For one, conditions may be just right, perfect, but for another not at all. And if perfection depends on perspective then it’s thrown into a state of flux. It just can’t exist.

Glass: Great weather we’ve been having recently..?

Banana: But I was also thinking, as much as I dislike entropy as a condition of this world, that it might bring with it a little treasure too. When you know something will decay and die it only makes it more precious. Wallace Stevens, the modernist poet, said ‘Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.’. I wonder if catching something in a moment, knowing it won’t last, increases or hightens the experience?

Dust: I think I’m gonna have to go soon…

Banana: I had this moment earlier, where you know how life just goes past, it’s so quick, and you’re taking in so much stuff all at once. And your brain just filters most of it out so you don’t go nuts? Well, one of those things that normally gets filtered out and forgotten, or logged in the brain somewhere: well I looked at one. It was almost imperceivable, like the focusing of a lens, which I caught just before it got lost in the cloud of reality. So that thing I noticed, could have been deemed insignificant and filtered out with the rest of life's noise, but I really quickly snagged it's tail. And I looked at it. And it was incredible.

Glass: Mmmhmm….

Banana: So I used to work in a cafe. And I got really familiar with the coffee bean bags. I knew exactly what they looked like because I tipped the beans out into the grinder so often. Anyway, that cafe started a new cafe and they used the same beans, and I was in that new cafe, writing.

Dust: But you’re a banana…

Banana: Yeah, well, anyway. I knew these bags literally inside and out. Their image was solid and unquestionable in my mind. So I was sitting there and I heard the beans being tipped into the grinder and suddenly I saw the bag. Now I’ve no idea if I imagined seeing it or I actually saw it. Whether I turned my head, without realising, and saw the bag, or whether the connection of that noise to that image was so cemented in my neural paths that it was automatically summoned. And it was an amazing feeling. Amazing. Was that real, or was that just in my mind. So that was just a tiny little thing but I caught it and looked at it. And it made me think, how many other things have rushed past me and I’ve not noticed? And how can I make it happen again? I mean, it's as if you are in a field of dandelions facing an endless breeze, and those dandelion seeds constantly replicate to provide a stream of stimulus. And to stand any chance of focusing on the horizon and navigating the field you learn to drown out those visuals. But then suddenly, accidentally, one of those seeds has a golden tip and somehow you manage to catch it. So to find another you're left with two options: to analyse every seed as it flies past, an impossible and exhausting task, or to continue as usual, letting them pass unnoticed but confident in your ability to discover the next one when it chooses to fly by.

But now I’m worried that I’ve elevated it to such a high level that what I’ve made it into isn’t a good reflection of what actually happened. I've been thinking and thinking about it. I've been analysing the environment, internal and external. I've given it so much attention. But my worry now if that my memory of it is no longer authentic but hyper inflated. Being of the mind, it's harder to perceive the evidence. I can take notes, but I can't excavate the experience and analyse it as something tangible. And now I worry it will morph and twist into what I want it to be, as opposed to what it is. It will become legend.

Glass: So, I’ve got this thing….


Dust: Yeah, it was nice meeting you.

Clouds, transcription algorithms and Dean.

'In Japanese culture, a full moon is beautiful, but it's not as beautiful as a full moon hidden behind a cloud' - Tacita Dean.

I'm not sure if this is true or not, but it stuck with me. Dean's thoughts on narrative, or rather it's concealment, have bolstered my opinion that there's power in connecting the dots. The mind going out to harvest tomatoes for dinner, as opposed to visiting a vending machine. There's a satisfaction in work. 

Clouding or concealing a narrative seems fairly apparent in terms of my research into the subconscious. There are layers, some of which are more challenging to access. Writing using surrealist automatic methods seemed the obvious process at first, but today I discovered the faulty algorithms of transcription apps. On first glance it feels like reverse engineering the cloak of the gut, but it seems significant enough to document nonetheless. 

Below are excerpts of a text, collaboratively written by an audio transcription AI, Faith Limbrick (in proxy via a recorded conversation) and myself (the counterpart of the conversation and editor). 

 

00.18 - 00.23
You know just this. You know where Carmens is.

00.23 - 00.35
So someone to the left who groans CARVIN, that's the one Ophioneus, one next door to the man who is right at the end.

00.36 - 00.38
Dirk yes.

01.12 - 01.29
So what's the difference between a sea urchin, a wide mouth jar, files, secret evidence, shells of various plants and animals, a neck vertebrae, the stomach of a ruminant, the pointed end of a bit, a plant and a kind of cake?

01.29 - 01.41
It's, it's, they're all traipses of one word which tell me more. Wait to read it. It's like Eki Eki something.

02.29 - 02.54
It's called it a common. It's called. But it's about the sort of hidden meaning in classical architecture, or more different parts of temples.

03.12 - 03.15
I suppose I've been thinking about it in your gallery .

04.08 - 04.57
There is something going on physically, you know, on a level that we don't quite understand when we make these movements. I'm thinking about the fake meanings or symbolism within architecture and the ho, ho, ho connected... is that the actual DNA or the physics of the object?

07.57 - 08.19
So they're on my hand and hold bake. Be in, be in that, in that area. It's almost like a gargoyle or an object within the architecture.

08.19 - 08.29
Two. It's not like, literally against the wall, but like my castle in between here. Both between the view of it.

08.29 - 08.53
But just like you're here, you're saying 'see the buildings here'. Naspers, yeah, I'm just thinking about this flattening of layers. It is flattening of an abuser on different mountains.

08.56 - 09.10
But I have been thinking about this kind of,  Liras thing. And condense them to recall.

10.36 - 10.48
Stuff, yeah. Your mind goes in between an object and relates to that thing. It was seeing much favour, and your mind, kind of.

10.50 - 11.51
Summoning the image. Yeah. When you say a column but also a body that makes me think of a thing as well, and that sort of transference between words and between. The physical object, between the mind and that's kind of like layers as well, I guess. Then. See, this is. We can see the planes of existence. So this is a plane that we, that we are on and understand and can make sense of and then everything else flows on this other thing. Whatever it is. And the points where we interact with that, that's like a word and we know what words mean and we know words do something and then that's an object. And that's like thinking.

14.39 - 14.47
It just won't happen. But yeah, make it real. Conky. Yeah this is interesting.

14.55 - 15.00
Afon writing is always up.

15.00 - 15.12
And the way it's laid out is always very structured. This is for audio but it's still. It's just that the text is kind of sensual.

15.12 - 15.31
Santa. And it's amazing. A little bit different just because it's so useful to play. But from what I understand you're not going to shoot this script .

15.32 - 15.35
So you just do this, purely for you.

15.45 - 16.40
There is something about gardening and marble staircases. When I think of a guardian I just instinctively think of something wild and like, not natural.

16.41 - 17.06
But this felt that Kaburi architected. Chris. D.S. There were elements of what I've written about. Some Gazans like different styles of Guardians. Some styles are very light.

17.10 - 17.28
Actually in fact, you turn the corner .

17.45 - 17.55
It's artificial it's everything is is fabricated . And I wonder if that year had the thought of a garden.

17.57 - 18.24
Hills, lakes, yeah that's definitely the big human chair. Yeah. Yeah, I thinking that's where the lake started in Ikorodu. It didn't start on a hill or like a random wild place. It started in a planned place, kind of.

19.00 - 19.48
It says the perceiver is the building already. Received is as good an idea as you can see. In the membrane between the architectures and the mind, it's thin and there they become. And all of a sudden the perceiver is the building already. So. I'm really interested in the way in which a space affects the way you think.

19.49 - 20.11
Attaches itself in the shape of the space then it kind of breaks the membrane and the mind goes out. And it's like a blob but then hits the wall then it becomes the shape of the space.

20.15 - 21.06
This is kind of like a membrane paper that catches the eye with the stuff set on it. Between human, it's super thin and things can burst through and out. I wonder if they can... The membrane can sing and form. They get closer to this. It's that calm but weird.

21.06 - 21.30
I guess it was like a rat. Here. There's this dimension in this thing. Most of the time I've thought of this as the subconscious. Like a fully present but difficult to access thing that at points can kind of burst through.

21.31 - 21.54
In a good way with things that need to be noticed. But. Can we lower that membrane solution? Make more of a surface.

22.02 - 22.18
It's super intelligent and filled with everything we read and do and see. It's all in there.

22.22 - 22.50
This being a metaphor for just all things that are unseen and real. Like I'm totally convinced God does miracles and they're just as real as gravity is real. He's just working with stuff that we don't have a frame of reference for in terms of reality.

23.30 - 24.19
I really enjoy that stretchy feeling.

25.15 - 26.04
There have to be clues from some sense of reality. Does this idea match up with what I've experienced, Grandma, and I suppose that's what my reception to object to into dermatology is. A bit of flirting with that. That thing will end with the theory, with a bunch of thoughts that's someone else's and I'm trying to eat them.

28.32 - 29.08
Metal was being brushed and then bent. I don't know. I don't know why.

29.16 - 29.20
Fingers. So it is in my brain.

29.22 - 29.29
What I'm going to do, I think I'm going to make time.

 

 

 

Smoke choreographing?

What about training the smoke? It’s hard if you can’t catch it. But if the smoke has no place to go other than the structure that you give it will it bend? Like the bonsai cats? I know they’re not real, but that concept of putting a small cat in a container, thus it grows the shape of it’s confines? 

What if training it is a bad idea? In the way that trying to grab steam only condenses it? It changes it. Can I somehow replicate the environment it’s created in to hold it? Ice holding ice won’t melt it. 

I mean - and this is a complete tangent - if you aren’t convinced that something’s achingly worthwhile in those moments where you can’t fully see it, then how can you keep going when it’s hard. I feel like there is something real here. It’s like searching through the ground without a metal detector trying to find treasure.

And I have a lot of thoughts which have popped up, like gemstones surfacing, but I feel like I need to start a cataloguing or an enforcement of structure, get see what’s there and what’s missing. I suppose this can be a place for that, so long as I can add some diagrams…