abstract machine //FRAGMENT// the wet box

video fragment from "the wet box" September, 2024

The wet box is recursion that fails / the object (solid, geometric) cannot be defined / the body conforms to exteriorities, wrapped, faces wrapped. The wet box is a cyberspace cut like a spiral, an incomplete turn. Fracture of language, possibility of opening. “If a horse is plasticized, it cannot be ridden”. Technology is part of feedback systems that constitute cognition / the mapping of the environment, the shape of value, the shape of morality. It reconstructs the pointing finger, the speaking gesture, the hole that looks. The wet box deals with the virtuality of the body that abstracts itself, the sign incapable of defining itself, the language that is performed, the pieces / of an abstract / machine.

text box //FRAGMENT// the wet box

text fragment from "the wet box" September, 2024

Eye-to-eye contact, where is the other? Input.

The other is yet to formalize the sign. Input.

The other wishes to formalize a face. Input.

Does the dream of numbness lead to a hallucination? Nothing solid endures.

Do you dream of the hand that caresses your tongue?

Of the glass from which you drink?

Do you know the place through which what falls moves?

Is there something in this body that wishes to connect to things?

Are you seeking to connect to things? Things.

If there is a small hole with golden fibers in the middle, you look through it. What do they see?

Do they see the temples that were erected?

The ruin of the little text box. Box and form.

The church burning in the flames of the little text box. Box and form.

Tool recodes the eye.

Eye-to-eye contact through the small golden hole in the middle. Decoded into the eye.

Bright blue birds bravely bounced between big bending branches barely brushing by then swiftly soaring singing softly sailing through the winter sky they flapped and fluttered feeling free as fading daylight filled the sky their feathers flashing floating fast like fireflies that flicker high.

Through twilight's trembling twinkling tones they traced a trail of tales untold they danced with daring through the dusk where dreams dissolve in shades of blue as morning mist met high peaks they moved like magic swift and true with silent wings they skimmed the dark sea where silver stars sank out of view.

Glowing glass gleamed gently gliding between great golden gates gradually growing dim silent shadows swiftly shifted sliding through shimmering streets scattering sparks softly tiny twisting trees tangled together turning through tunnels trembling toward twilight bright blue balloons briskly bounced between big bending bridges barely brushing by silver stars swiftly slid through silent skies softly shining as they soared.