A speculative atlas: to dilate the geography of the imagination with our hands, like clay. That which now sits on nowhere and nowhen. Which simply lies there. We must recover it.
It will soon become a sort of labor, this hyperlucid craft. An engineering of worlds in chimerical diagrams of nylon allure.
The task is to overtake the imagination. To make it ours, no concessions. To extract all possible landscapes and hymns, and make us empty of reveries?, which are after all noxious.
Like hunters of non-place surveying uncharted plots of the collective mind. Opening it with a knife. Folding and unfolding it, triptych origami. Spreading the layout of inexistence.
Post-liminal agri-measurements. Somni-vexilology. Cryo-diasporic. Each symbol now entails a topology. Each trace, a luminescence. Geohorror precedes the tempolingual. A flag always comes before its name.
Each time a new cartography, and a declaration of independence. Inventing a dwelling to inhabit in-between what’s possible and what’s not. Forging the ambience.
But the element of violence, of course. We must do violence against the imaginary. To make ourselves part of its domains, we must carbonate it all. Beahead it to emancipate it. We must deliver from the phantom’s aquamarine. Colonizing the city through the Possible means colonizing the Possible through the city. Or the meticulous design of brutality in albedo.
It’s a very specific relationship with the chthonic. Infinitely inward. A pendulum of foliated gluing. Regression to inter-larvae notations.
It’s a tactile mood. These are alchemic gestures. Through text, and the text that lives in shapes, resonances, fragrances. Thingamajig forces coalesced from the glossolalia. Unheard-of mythologies zigzagging across specimens. Meaning: it is gardening, or the imposition of a vital space. Like a rave is just a valley bound by the new limen, or: the new law, or: the hard-khôra.
And all that art says is place, [dis]place, [re]place…
The task is to forget, to become estranged from quotidian objects until they acquire these alien auras. The task is to remember, to link the deep projections of fantasy in our innermost Ardor. Exuberation of petrichor. You never know what you know until you know what you know. The task is to optimize the distance between these events until they coincide.
As any object embeds a hypnosis, any ecstasy is, too, modeled by its needles. We read the world as a vortex, a feedback loop of agency and enchantment. Yet such thick haze of technographia also means reality is malleable to reform. The task is to hack the lexicon of elemental sociogeny.
It actually starts with a voice in a basement – cave –, which is where a universe ferments. Babel, bubbling babble; belly of inexhaustible beast. It starts with the vertical scream of a single word that cuts the ground and ruptures love.
The stupefied eye allows uchronic gardens to the surface of the actual. Spectatorship co-constructs the imaginary world, which is never fully formed. To behold is to unravel. Witnesses keep finding contours at the edges of the pact. They excavate the symptoms of these worlds – mere artworks – as the tips of a wider atmosphere.
A friendship is this convention of observers. A collection of runes and an ontic sculpture – vaporous variance. Mutual assurance of divine contamination. Alliance that finds hiatus through the frontiers. And nests in the frontiers.
The task is to dwell on the shimmering forever, together. To long for what we once loathed by setting on the long voyage. Point of no return: the air with us, now, as it bends the shore to flame.