Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Artist's Statement. (All the Missed Spellings Are Different.)

Fate is Syntaxis, as each discrete physical interaction; creation of self, self with self, self with other, self with universe, self with extensions, is performed as part of a calculation whose roving sum everywhere evinces endpoints which are also ground zeros, or navels of ontology, or hybridical interims, or impasse. Syntaxis builds its own guide rails, its own hermeneutical (or hermetical (see [trans]~n~finite series)) walking staff, its own wave forms, or caduceusan prodigality or monstrosity. Syntaxis is not unlike the subtle body in its use of a projective or proprioceptive avatar, a subtle math or modeling whose operations are the body of biosemiotics in the lived real world. There is no difference between realpolitik and syntaxis. There is no difference between semiotics and syntaxis. There is no difference between aesthesis and syntaxis. There is no difference between poiesis and syntaxis, unless any agent of syntaxis wishes there to be. This modification of sense is free to move back up the chain, or to procede only from this point on. Syntaxis is a wholly open ambulatory system, it is a system builder and a system interrupter. Syntaxis is capable of both entrainment and of symmetry breaking behaviors, and of both combined into one. Syntaxis is one possible denouement of the surface geometry of planetary ecosystemics. Syntaxis is how cultures, and individuals enact their species of consciousness or unconsciousness as praxis. Syntaxis is both making real bread and calling all of space 'the long bread' while at the same time thinking of money, and perhaps a new and synthetic form of erotic stimulation, using 'slow-risings', and 'hard beds'. It imagines all eros as erosion, and as a NOISE SORE. It may imagine all reality as 'erotic noise sore', for there are no rules preventing it. Syntaxis is what was meant (but perhaps only for me, or you) by the Deleuzian figure of the Schitzo's stroll. Syntaxis is primarily a process, or an event. In effect, it is a noun which is always a verb, a reality, a truth, which does not disallow its path or construction to necessarily eschew fiction, or unreality, as options on which to base further action or construction. Syntaxis is both an abstract plain of consistency, and the very spirit of incosnsistency. Syntaxis is both a Weltaungshaun, and a sphere, and a burst bubble, and a machine. Syntaxis is the spirit which is both holy and chemical, unholy, and ambiguous. Syntaxis is both agency and agency navigating the system of agencies. Syntaxis is a view of the seas of agents, the chemical sky, a chemical scrying. Syntaxis is the poetic or purely combinatory physics of being.