High Masculine Tones

Work of Anti-Art in the Age of Artificial Reproduction

The mind creates, the chaos reproduces. In the trans-gender hallucination, art objects are resurrections of the iterations of the mind -- a mind that uses the chaos as a parallax to enmesh ideas, patterns, and emotions. With the devolution of the electronic environment, the mind is conceiving a point where it will be free from the chaos to consume immersions into the ejaculations of the delphic hallucination. Work of Anti-Art in the Age of Artificial Reproduction contains 10 minimal shockwave engines (also refered to as "memes") that enable the user to make throbbing audio/visual compositions.

measuring chains, constructing realities
putting into place forms
a matrix of illusion and disillusion
a strange attracting force
so that a seduced reality will be able to spontaneously feed on it


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Brian Lamb's work investigates the nuances of modulations through the use of slow motion and close-ups which emphasize the Artificial nature of digital media. Lamb explores abstract and painful scenery as motifs to describe the idea of imaginary hallucination. Using trailing loops, cathode rays, and allegorical images as patterns, Lamb creates meditative environments which suggest the expansion of space...

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...courtesy of The Market-O-Matic (1.0) [fine arts version] -- pimping yourself to the self-referential digital arts community has never been so easy!

Craig at BookNotes has some good links on Leslie Marmon Silko's mammoth novel Almanac of the Dead.

Like Craig, I read the book while in the region where most of it is set, while living in Hermosillo -- about four hours by car south of Tucson. To some extent, Silko's book defined the mental topography for my two years in Mexico... which is a terrifying notion now that I ponder it. Its apocalyptic vision is unrelenting.

763 dense and dizzying pages plumbing the depths of human depravity, and it took me about three attempts to get up enough momentum to finish it... it was grueling at times. Its astonishing range of characters, plots, and ideas - and its unflinching depictions of the grotesque and the perverse - reminded me, strangely enough, of Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, though Silko's style is far more direct, overtly political and impassioned.

And every day, the world 'out there' more closely resembles that horrible world Silko creates between the covers.