Event VI: Letters to Him Who Hides Wastelands Within 2018
1. Reality is both hidden and revealed; it both appears and withdraws, not in turn but simultaneously, pulsating.
2. It is an attempt to empty myself of the world, of the differences, to forcibly empty the self of the self. To take the form of a slave, to reduce myself to the forever-escaping point I occupy in time and space. To no-thing. "Automatism," Breton declares, "leads us in a straight line to this region," and the region he had in mind is obviously the unconscious. But to me this pulsating stream, concomitantly hidden and revealed, appears everything but automatic.
3. In the beginning there was the straight line, an act of faith; the thought-form of being drawn towards what constantly withdraws, what violently attracts by its very withdrawal. The thought-form of time, of temporality.
4. It is an attempt to exhaust meaning, to exhaust the signiﬁers of their signiﬁcance, to exhaust the differences, and the empty spacing in-between; to make the frenetically scribbled word return to its very beginning, to its straight line. (It is spacing that makes it clear that we are not looking at reality, but at the world infested by interpretation or signiﬁcation, reality impregnated with the gaps or blanks, which are the formal preconditions of the sign).
5. The white page, sheet, canvas (mater-ial); the apparently blank precondition of meaning. A ﬂuid matrix, liquid masquerading as solid, within which each representation of reality is secured in isolation, held within a condition of exteriority, of syntax, of spacing.
6. There are heaps of debris piling up in our language, memory and thinking, obstructing our ability to symbolize, to grasp, the complexity of our times. The wasteland grows and devastates, ﬂattens, our inner worlds. This devastation is different from destruction because it is hidden; it is an existential alienation, a high-velocity expulsion of Mnemosyne, of memory, a forced fragmentation, a silent decapitation.