we obey a fictional eye

Possessed suggests in medias res that the centre of the human universe is a smartphone. The next image shows more clearly a girl lying on a bare mattressed bed, in a ruined house devoid of any furniture, with the presence of only one object—a smartphone. She greets the viewers with the words—both vocal and written—“welcome to the modern age”, followed by:

“You may think that this is a house. But there is no house. You may think that this is a girl. But there is no girl. Don’t ask me who I am.”

Examining the complex mutual relationship between the socio-political context and the work of art which documents the historic period it emerged in, the words are intercut with film negatives of houses, a helicopter, the ‘invisible’ humans (“you never noticed me, I wouldn’t be missed”), a footage of Pope Francis, all accompanied with smartphone selfies made with a raised arm in front of the masses of people and monuments.

This verbal segment is intercut with the images of the cross and a drawing of a hand collaged with the real human arm holding a smartphone, as the new disease to be cured of (by exorcism) seems to be—the reality. The raised arm holding a smartphone becomes the pervasive film symbol—it is present in Vatican, over the heads of a faceless mass, in restaurants, in shopping centres, in our empty homes, in the streets, it is everywhere—questioning the beliefs of people. Religion becomes a kind of superstition, because no matter what people ‘know’ in the information age, they still interpret the world and the reality according to their pre-existing fixed set of beliefs.

POSSESSED, 2018

Annunci

“It began raining facts from the ceiling”

In 2014, a strange set of events unfolds.
Without apparent plan or structure, they seem connected.
Our views of the world are changing, as if we wake up from a dream.
We no longer see the internet as a means of communication,
but as a way to change the nature of
reality itself.
Mind-warped, pixelated illusions
replace our faith in information.
Ideologies collide in chasms of
uncertainty and hope.
We are gazing at out screens,
trapped in a sprawl.

©  Metahaven, 2016.

I’ve been living in an idea (boys don’t cry)

Speaking of Nirvana, it was there
Rare as the feathers on my dash from a phoenix
There with my crooked teeth and companions sleeping, yeah
Dreaming a thought that could dream about a thought
That could think of the dreamer that thought
That could think of dreaming and getting a glimmer of God
I be dreaming a dream in a thought
That could dream about a thought
That could think about dreaming a dream
Where I can not, where I can not
Less morose and more present
Dwell on my gifts for a second
A moment one solar flare would consume, so I nod
Spin this flammable paper on the film that my life
High flights, inhale the vapor, exhale once and think twice
Eat some shrooms, maybe have a good cry, about you
See some colors, light hangglide off the moon

Quicksilver;Poem;

Giaccio
nella sottile linea d’argento
che si dissolve rapida
prima della comprensione.

Giaccio
sul pelo dell’acqua cristallina
tormentata da correnti indefinibili
prima che l’attrazione molecolare ceda.

Riposo
nell’ombra del mio stesso dubbio
di forme che crescono senza controllo
irradiano agilmente un nuovo pensiero:
che non se più tu la persona nello specchio.

Giaccio
pesanti le membra sui silenzi
dei corpi vicini, dei genitori.
Fulminei, fantasmi di antiquati giudizi
visitano i sogni.

Prima del risveglio si disperano le soluzioni
corrente elettrica e acqua, ricerco l’impulso mortale
allontano la marchiatura che mi rende cieca
un ruolo che non si addice
un’etichetta che lascia la colla dopo processi di distruzione e ricomponimento.

Giaccio
nell’immagine sfuocata
di mille altri cloni
coloro a cui cerco di dare un nome:

io, identità.

///////////////////

I lie
within the thin silver line
which dissolves quickly
before I understand.

I lie
on the surface of the crystalline water
tormented by indefinable currents
before the molecular attraction yields.

I rest
in the shadow of my own doubt
inside me forms that grow without control
they radiate new agile thoughts:
that it’s no longer you the person in the mirror.

I lie
heavy limbs on silences
of the neighboring bodies, of the parents.
Lightning, ghosts of antiquated judgments
they visit dreams.

Before awakening, the solutions despair
electricity and water, I search for the deadly impulse
remove the marking that makes me blind
a role that does not fit
a label that leaves the glue after processes of destruction and reconstitution.

I lie
in the blurred image
of a thousand other clones
those I try to give a name:

me, identity.


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Emotions – Machine – Desire

Cyberspace is a global and dynamic domain (subject to constant change) characterized by the combined use of electrons and electromagnetic spectrum, whose purpose is to create, store, modify, exchange, share and extract, use, eliminate information and disrupt physical resources.

A distinctive and constitutive feature of cyberspace is that no central entity exercises control over all the networks that make up this new domain.

Just as in the real world there is no world government, cyberspace lacks an institutionally predefined hierarchical center.

To cyberspace, a domain without a hierarchical ordering principle, we can therefore extend the definition of international politics as being with no system of law enforceable.

This does not mean that the dimension of power in cyberspace is absent, nor that power is dispersed and scattered into a thousand invisible streams, nor that it is evenly spread across myriad people and organizations, as some scholars had predicted. On the contrary, cyberspace is characterized by a precise structuring of hierarchies of power.

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« Cyberspazio: un’allucinazione vissuta consensualmente ogni giorno da miliardi di operatori legali, in ogni nazione, da bambini a cui vengono insegnati i concetti matematici… Una rappresentazione grafica di dati ricavati dai banchi di ogni computer del sistema umano. Impensabile complessità. Linee di luce allineate nel non-spazio della mente, ammassi e costellazioni di dati. Come le luci di una città, che si allontanano […]. »

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Velocità –––––– — – — –

Noi vogliamo cantare l’amor del pericolo, l’abitudine all’energia e alla temerità.

Il coraggio, l’audacia, la ribellione, saranno elementi essenziali della nostra poesia.

La letteratura esaltò fino ad oggi l’immobilità pensosa, l’estasi ed il sonno.

Noi vogliamo esaltare il movimento aggressivo, l’insonnia febbrile, il passo di corsa, il salto mortale, lo schiaffo ed il pugno.

Noi affermiamo che la magnificenza del mondo si è arricchita di una bellezza nuova; la bellezza della velocità. Un automobile da corsa col suo cofano adorno di grossi tubi simili a serpenti dall’alito esplosivo…

un automobile ruggente, che sembra correre sulla mitraglia, è più bello della Vittoria di Samotracia.

 

Il Tempo e lo Spazio morirono ieri.
Noi viviamo già nell’assoluto, poiché abbiamo già creata l’eterna velocità onnipresente.