Representation and object: poetics and essaying on the act of entering surface and depth

What would be of the surface without depth? Can we have one

without the other? Dissecting is surely possible, analyzing

constituents, postulate how deep should the surface be and where does the core start, study the interpretation of perception and understand that it transits content. But, is a surface just a surface or is there not something else to it? What of the parts that make that surface? Are they still surface, or are they depth? Within material, dwells material. Within that material, more material is found through. I want to tell you about traveling through surface, to reach depths yet not leaving the surface. The rock bottom truth is that there is no rock bottom: if we were to consider rock to be the surface of the planet Earth, that wouldn’t be bottom, it would be top and the conundrum here is that there is no bottom, there is only centre. And for that matter, surface is nothing else than a crust made of many different layers, as is depth. Surface is an electron, a neutron and a proton. Depth is an electron, a neutron and a proton. It is only a matter of promiscuity. It is only a matter of perception. Perception in itself also has different layers of achievement. What I printed in these pages is a product of my artistic perception but what I achieved with it are connections only made in you, in the depths of you. I can’t touch it, not even its surface. But with this, I reached a depth not singular, neither universal. As Julia Kristeva would put it, it is exemplary. There is no one else capable of producing such an example other than you. This example is not just because your brain is unique. The places inside your brain are the same places as mine, as your neighbour, as your doctor. Even the so-called wiring is not so dissimilar. What makes it exemplary is that ‘the connectivity of the system constrains the order in which information is accessed and can be weighted, and that weighting of information is a central aspect of the computations that form conceptual processing.’1 What you gain therefore is your own selfish intangible matter, not to be grasped by anyone else. An interpretation processed off of a gift of mine over a stimulus offered to render an emotion, a feeling: to enter. T o traverse, meander, roam, explore within the invisible opens up a consciousness of interminability. What you can’t see is infinite. A consciousness that un-places you in context with everything, and I mean everything because everything is made of everything. It’s just how mass is computed and prioritized that changes. An analogy to our brain. To enter makes me titter, my fleeting attention to social protocols but extreme concentration on every visual step and fierce grinning, incipient fervor for a curiosity that is just about to be quenched are all jitters typical of an on-field expedition to a remote part of the world where unexpected species are about to crawl out of the depths. Yet, in Microscopy, that is exactly what happens, only through the commonplace surface of a screen. However, there is nothing ordinary about this enlightening I feel, because you can’t undo what you have done, because if glass breaks it can’t be restored, time doesn’t go back with the clock no matter how hard you to push its hands. You can forget but you can’t de-know, which is a process supported by the hypnotic nature of our memory. I feel hypnotized when perusing these landscapes avidly, places we are too coarse for their only-penetrable-by-light intricacies, which compare to the impossibility of really touching a colour… only light can touch a colour, however we can touch things of a given colour: are we then touching a representation of a colour? Or the surface of colour? What is of its depth then and what is colour made of? Is colour really real? Or is it just true? Or is colour surface and depth in permanent darkness? When you enter this underworld of light, it will never get out of you. The surface of that screen was all real to me, in fact it reified sceneries I only so far imagined and never had corroborated. The astonishment of verifying the actual magnitude of possibilities took me in awe and questions were so many as none, because all was in front of me! Suddenly I felt like I could see everything explained before my eyes. How can this be? How is there so much depth to what is flat to our eye? How paradoxical is it that this very own eye allowed me to see what is invisible to itself? The geology of the mountains that are filled with tree roots is only a fruition of my imagination. I don’t need to write about what I see, I just gave you this knowledge. Although I conjured this journey before your eyes, it is within your perception that the knowledge is going to take place, unfold and be known. This lays out a question answered in two-fold, that of whether the work is on the surface of what I present you, or in the depths of your mind. What I printed in this book is how paper looks on the inside. How bewildering is that you are looking at the surface of paper, yet seeing its depth? On a tangent, another question that can be posed is that if the work is the image of the material or the material in itself? Since Magritte’s ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’, artists have been asking themselves what are the predicaments that make this eternal question. William Kentridge has spoken about what Gilles Deleuze describes as becoming being the appeal of foolishness, as if we only get a kick out of the artwork being knowingly both the viewer and the maker, emphasizing, as I see it, the importance of transformation. As we capture a representation of an object, we are ‘being made aware of our part in the construction of the illusion’2. It is within this illusion in an exemplary representation of an object that exemplary art-making bridges the gap between the object itself and the image of it. It is intended that you travel slowly through these images, taking some time to close in on what is the topography of the visited paper. The surface of the Earth has taken 4.543 billion of years to becoming, being crust, or surface if you like, for 4.0 billion of years. Just think about it, all matter can be reduced to the same (electrons, protons and neutrons) yet, only a synergetic slow and long journey is able to connect these components and make multiplicity possible. So please take your time to do anything in the artistic realm. The becoming is where fertility lies and as I see it where cognitive processing matters. T his is what is in this book to understand: the work of art is one that renders visible ‘the virtual intensities of life through negotiation with the autopoietic traits of the material’3. These pages are a ‘being of sensation’ (Deleuze) and they depict the becoming of my findings. The truth is, surface and depth are motionless, they are all part of the same matter and, in my perspective, art is in the dynamics that are learnt and experienced: transformation is the only exemplary synergetic knowledgeable matter that matters. Notes: 1 - in Missed Connections: A connectivity-constrained account of the representation and organization of object concepts, Mahon, Bradford Z., in The Conceptual Mind, edited by Margolis, Eric and Laurence, Stephen, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2015, United States of America 2 - in Six Drawing Lessons: The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures 2012, Kentridge, William, Harvard University Press, 2014, Cambridge Massachussets and London, pg 31 3 - in Gilles Deleuze, Ambrose, Darren in Art: Key Contemporary Thinkers, edited by Vickery, Jonathan and Costello, Diarmuid, Berg Publishers, 2007

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