I really felt that you were breaking up the atmosphere around me, that you were clearing the way to allow me to advance, to provide room for an impossible space for that in me which was as yet only potential, for a whole virtual germination which must be sucked into life by the space that offered itself.
I often put myself into this state of impossible absurdity in order to try to generate thought in myself. There are few of us in this era who have tried to get hold of things, to create within ourselves spaces for life, spaces which did not exist and which did not seem to belong in actual space.
I have always been struck by that obstinacy of the mind in wanting to think in terms of dimensions and spaces, and in fixing an arbitrary states of things, in thinking of segments, in crystalloids, so that each mode of being remains fixed at a starting point, so that though is not in immediate and uninterrupted communication with things–this fixation and this immobilization, this tendency of the soul to construct monuments occurring, as it were, BEFORE THOUGHT. Evidently this is the right condition for creativity.
But I am even more struck by that inexhaustible, that meteoric illusion which inspires in us those predetermined, circumscribed conceptual structures, those crystallized segments of soul, which seem to form a great plastic page in osmotic relation to the rest of reality. And surreality is like a contracting of the osmosis a kind of reversed communication. Far from seeing it as a lessening of control, I see it, on the contrary, as a greater control, but a control, which, instead of acting, doubts: a control which inhibits contact with ordinary reality and allows more subtle and rarified contacts, contacts pared down to a cord which ignites but never breaks.
I imagine a soul that is worked upon and, as it were, sulphured and phosphated by these contacts, as the only acceptable state of reality.
But I know not what nameless, unknown lucidity gives me the tone and the cry of these contacts and makes me experience them myself. I experience them with a certain insoluble totality, I mean a totality about whose emotional impact I have not the slightest doubt. And I, in relation to these disturbing contacts, am in a state of minimal tremor, I would have you imagine an arrested void, a mass of mind buried somewhere, become virtuality.
annaxmalina
stormborns
izzy806
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
kianamaiart
snowghoul
