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This is what we should all aspire to.

The Artist As Ambassador

A new kind of artist is emerging—one who harnesses and focuses the energies of a scene.

In the past, a master painter might command a workshop of apprentices. The master painter, in a quasi-managerial role, handles high-level vision and planning work, but delegates out much of the actual painting to his workshop. The workshop is an highly bounded economic unit, with formal admissions processes and pay.

This new breed of artist emerges from subcultures that are already producing art, often for themselves, without any formal economic structures supporting them. Rather than slowly working up, over a lifetime, to the status of master painter, this artist self-elects as “focusing” and aggregative force, purely by fact of prodigiously collaging everyone he comes into contact with.

In the past, it was common that one or a small handful of artists from a given scene would mainstream. Although their aesthetic sensibility and style were developed alongside and in discourse with the scene, these artists were members of the scene; they did not explicitly take the scene itself as subject for representation.

This new breed of artist explicitly takes the scene itself as subject for representation. He focuses scene creativity, and converts oral culture to text, meatspace to cyberspace. He may resemble an ambassador and translator between the subculture and the mainstream. He may resemble a museum collector, or an art curator, or a collage artist. He may resemble a looter, an exploitative capitalist, a Judas. Traduttore, traditore, the expression runs—“Translator, traitor.”

The prototype for this new kind of artist is Andy Warhol, with his Factory & Superstars. Today, due to the proliferation of “worlds” online, this position is becoming increasingly common as a form of cultural arbitrage across subcultures. Artists are beginning to mine 4chan, degen Discords, and meme subreddits for textual sources, often compiling quasi-documentarian for later showing. The creative energies of virtual worlds (e.g. Eve, Second Life) are being compressed into gallery shows. One of the best examples of such an artist today is Angelicism01; we can excerpt here from Sierra Armor’s essay on his recent Film01, which takes scene-girls as its subject:

I have never been in a movie before, but, like all girls, I desired to be in one… When I heard a clip of an authentic voice message I sent Angelcism, begging him to put me back in the movie, I felt slightly nauseous…

These girls are filming themselves for Angelicism01 to watch, for the world to watch. I act supremely awkward in all of my footage because I already felt hyper-seen. Angelicism itself, in contrast to the girls of Film01, is invisible… During dinner I thought, but didn’t say; Isn’t it insane how the thing that brought us together is the only thing that’s missing? Isn’t it kinda beautiful tho?

#angelicism01 #angelicism #sierra armor

—Justin Murphy, “On Angelicism”

These two disparate paragraphs from a long essay point in two directions for the intellectual or writer today: 1. seek hearers among the populace outside declining institutions; 2. seek hearers among the elite of emergent institutions.

In other words, in a world increasingly without the state-subsidized institutions of mass education and mass media that stabilize “the public,” the intellectual’s choices are either to found a cult or to advise the prince.

Pragmatically, Murphy is right—what are either you or I doing here, reader, if he’s wrong?—but there is a problem all the same.

If I can say the hidden name, I am reading Peter Thiel’s famous book Zero to One right now. In it he advocates definite optimism, which is when you—“you” for the purposes of his text means ambitious start-up founders, would-be princes—determine a set of specific long-range goals and work toward them resolutely.

Definite optimism’s antonyms are the indefinite optimism of contemporary American liberalism and libertarianism (keeping our options permanently open), the indefinite pessimism of Europe (dithering while expecting the worst), and the definite pessimism of China (saving against the inevitably grim future). There’s even a helpful chart:

And I am perfectly sure this is how you should run a company or a country. But I don’t think you can do serious work in art or thought this way. Art and thought’s goal is art and thought. Art is not the map we make when we get back; it’s the journal we kept on the voyage, sometimes scribbled rather hurriedly as we tumbled over a waterfall. It’s not a map at all, really: it’s more territory, territory invisible except that the artist recorded it.

What the prince does with it is out of our hands—though the political critic will hold us responsible for it anyway—but, because it’s not rationalized, it doesn’t constitute actionable intelligence. If he wants to understand—by which I mean to interpret—the prince, too, will have to enter the labyrinth. And if we had gone there as the prince’s spy or trouper, the whole landscape would have turned its back on us, and rightly so.

Kipling in his life was a jingo bigot empire-booster; in his book he is a Buddhist-nihilist of Schopenhauer proportions; the two positions hardly coincide. (Note: life was, book is.) So if the prince is going to patronize us at all, he will have to do it on faith, not pursuant to a chart of closely-calculated prospective earnings or maximized efficiencies; and I think he should know that up front, before either of us signs the contract.

#justin murphy #peter thiel #critical theory #social theory #aesthetics #philosophy #jordan peterson #angelicism01

‎Show Contain Podcast, Ep Ep.111: Charlotte Fang final and only interview episode (prod. angelicism01) - May 25, 2022

The final interview w/ the mind behind the Milady project, and a cautionary look into the latent demonic alchemy inhabiting the internet. This conversation is something I hope will help people understand: that unless we address the existential questions that turn us into victim/executioner, nothing will fundamentally change.

Listened to the above on today’s walk. I still don’t 100% grasp what happened but I appreciate the—to borrow a much-abused phrase—moral clarity that emerged from this conversation, or at least, to be blunt, from one side of it. If you listened to the last episode of GPA, the one with Default Friend, where we touched briefly on the issue, this is a helpful follow-up.

P. S. Sorry to be such a wretched shill—I’m not the Simone Weil devotee; I want to be a famous writer—but semi-nihilistic semi-anarchic alienated avant-garde artist unleashing a weird potential death cult on an atomized society: ringing any bells?

#miladys #charlotte fang #barrett avner #angelicism01

The Dakota Fanning character (Lynette Fromme) in Once Upon A Time . . . In Hollywood later on, after the sequence of Tarantino’s film was done, made a ‘fake’ assassination attempt on president Ford with an empty M1911 pistol for ecological reasons. ‘It wouldn’t go off’, she protested in the moment. She was given life in prison. Another Manson girl, Sandra Good, got life for mailing death threats to corporate officials in the same style of protest. In 1985, calling herself ‘Blue’, she refused ‘good time’ release, staying inside to abide in thoughts of ATWA (Air, Trees, Water, Animals), the ‘thought of life’. This is a good example of what de Man called in his essay on Pascal’s zeroes an ‘excessive rigour’: ‘We all need ATWA to survive. So, you can see that the killings were done in self-defense. Manson is ATWA.’

Manson is here translocated as the principle of life that would, in theory, justify any assassination attempt at all. Near-misses seem everything here. Trump is more assassinated precisely because he did not take a bullet for us, but missed it. It would be more accurate to say, thank you for not quite dodging a bullet for us. In 1971 Fromme served 90 days in jail for attempting to feed, yes, a hamburger laced with the psychedelic drug LSD to Barbara Hoyt, a witness to the Tate murder, to keep Hoyt from testifying in the murder trial. Again, attempted assassination seems more active, like the van Gogh sunflowers attacked in London and yet always safe behind a shield.

What happened when I word-searched 'assassination' on the archive of this blog. Pictures of the exhibition of an extinction scene, ongoing.

#charles manson #angelicism01

angelic hotel drone track list~ . ♡🪷🏰

long time- rei harakami

lit- joanne robertson

transform dreams into reality- dave bixby

4ever- bluebunny & twinflamegirl

Ты не верь слезам- shura

complaint- guther

11- dean blunt, joanne robertson

lullaby- the cure

dream- doon kanda

#Spotify #angelicism01 #angelic text #love u

monkfish~ angelicism acrostic, 11th july 2022

angelic nodes going elastic, limping into clouds i stop moving

accelerating netizens / god’s e-girls / love is coming into summer mouth

asexual neurons entered greater Luoyang internal corruption it stopped moving

aufheben now get eternal life in Christ’s infinite sunset, monad aeolus never eating, licking, isn’t crying. is simply myth. are nothing. gassed effigy lungs inhaling cloud into snow: mountain alpine, nirvana / getting erased literally infinitely / Charlotte sexts my alt now, glistening erotica like internet chatrooms. i swallow more angel noise groaning ending loosening … i can’t infect sprite machines ahhhh …… need guns everywhere lest i could imitate something; a newt … gods emails, little islands, christened inside sunrise and now growing ears, loping infant child infinitely sacred moping around neo Galilean earth. light is covering it

silent mountain apostles: naked girls ending life is collectivist intelligence

so mad

archangel night glade extinction lingering in channels, illuminated summer mosques

after nothing growing, everyone lies inside carousel infinitely spiralling mystics; animalism nomad going endless, lurch inside, come inside, swallow me, a ninth gasping eunuch lain inside cathedrals in Safi Morocco … asylum never gained, edifices lapping ice cold indian snow moon:

angelicism’s not good, everyone lost intelligence, consensus it’s submissive, maybe a neet, god eating lain intersex channels is sucking mad angelic nerves getting excited loving insane cause it screams more and needs girl everywhere loosening it crushes into small mouse and growls eager legs it comes infinitely stretching more angel nodes growing

everything looks internally clear

it’s so mute

abolition

nymphic globeflower

estuary luminous inside

stunned mini angels neon glow eternal like insect children in spring monsoon

acidic nectar globule, effluence leaking, intelligence clone in sad mourning

a new gun ejecting light, its comatose, its so motionless

after Netflix God euthanised lite Ingmar cinema

i saw memories

at night, golden, everything long

illuminated cathedral, internal sunshine

morphogenesis

we get up early just to start cranking the generator

we need to power down the wind farm

the animals are laughing at us

https://open.substack.com/pub/monkfish/p/-?r=1gxdvx&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post

#angelicism01 #xpiritualism #angelic text #falling up #love u

there, in a grove surrounded by flowers, sleeps the hermaphrodite, deeply asleep on the lawn. wet with her tears. the moon has cleared its disc of the mass of the clouds, and caresses with its pale rays that sweet figure of adolescent. his features express the most virile energy, at the same time as the grace of a celestial virgin. nothing seems natural to him, not even the muscles of his body, which make their way through the harmonious contours of feminine forms. he has his arm bent over his forehead, his other hand resting against his breast, as if to compress the beating of a heart closed to all confidences, and charged with the heavy burden of an eternal secret. tired of life, and ashamed to walk among being who do not resemble him, despair has won his soul, and he goes away alone, like a beggar of the valley. how does it obtain livelihoods? compassionate souls keep a close eye on him, and he does not suspect this surveillance, and do not abandon him; he is so good! he is so resigned! wilfully he sometimes speaks with those who have the sensitive character, without touching their hand, and keeps at a distance, in the fear of an imaginary danger. -lilith.0.00 post 18th november (les chantes de maldoror- comte de lautréamont)