Feb’ 24. some notes on 16 lovesongs …


…act as if what you are about to read never existed… the choice to read something is a choice to destroy it….

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line, cascading lines. harmonic noise, love songs.
there is the beautiful fact than i can remove a word and filter it simply by addending its space.

take the image as love song. break it into its bare components. everything is a love song. /

a ‘commentary’ or any rhetoric devised to ontologically deconstruct something becomes narratively a caricature much too fast.
art shouldn’t go as far as to only take things apart for the sake of exposing the voile underneath anything’s surface. this is boring! once the surface is peeled, the nothingness inside should be clear enough to refract something and obscured enough to only hint what the innards may be.

the moment i remove the space in between love and songs, i commit two heinous acts— one, a grammatical mistake, and two, a complete re-ordering of the surface of the word.
something cannot ordinarily be pluralized, but when it is, the role of the observer is transversed..

rather, the word calls attention to itself (partly because it looks wrong) to the point where it feels removed from the ordinary logics of a sentence.
some things brings too much attention to the object things.
somethings calls attention to the idea of a something, which is obviously separate from some_thing, as we aren’t talking about a thing but rather its statelessness. wherefore, spaces are simply a means to dissect liminality in words. a love song is simply a song about love, whereas a lovesong is the song itself, situated away from its comfy veneer of only describing an object. i guess, lovesongs are categorically discussions of love songs? i don’t know, but the logic makes sense somewhere in the spaces themselves, away from a place where i can normally speak on things.

per Coomaraswamy, “to have lost the art of thinking in images is precisely to have lost the proper linguistic of metaphysics and to have descended to the verbal logic of ‘philosophy’”.
i will try to let images speak for themselves.
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lines, cascading. line, weiß/weißlich? using black line to paint a color in the cracks between.


conscious connections between line. ‘gesticology’, as coined by Stockhausen- a system of measuring gestures.

can/will/or

when a line moves, it should move as if it had no bearing of when or where it intersects, otherwise a dependent line becomes involved in dramaturgical machinations that i find overused.

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imagine a single period of a sine wave.
utmost controlled. imagine a single period, that per Cage cedes control (de-emphasizes) something and hyper-emphasizes. the complete opposite of precision (unpredictability) horseshoes eventually into noise, until the shape of noise becomes even enough to become predictable.

emphasize envelope, de-emphasize the contents of the envelope.





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to have lost the art of thinking in images is precisely to have lost the proper linguistic of metaphysics.
to have lost the art of thinking in images is precisely to have lost the proper linguistic of metaphysics.
to have lost the art of thinking in images is precisely to have lost the proper linguistic of metaphysics.


a building that stretches north into a street, into infinity.
a point of reference that slowly vanishes.



try to exist, and exit as subtly as possible.
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is it our role to understand? or is it our role to conceive? listening and ordering in real time is a creative act, but it bares no relation to the intention of the composer. in fact, the composer should cede the choice of credit to the entropy of the system created within the composition; a piece is no more or less accessible because of its tonality, since it is a conscious choice to estrange the listener accustomed to how something should sound.
maybe i ask why something should sound in the first place. somewhere in this is a lovesong. or, a love song.

E.B


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