death and rebirth on stage 2

all that is left is celluloid.  more photographs soon

we are mountainous midwives

out from that hole in our heads pours mountains

huge

some growths

deconstruction

we planted the seeds

jon is stuck

so...there we actually finished the whole hill, but the contraption with those photos in them remains elusive.  stay tuned.

the first significant movement in the work is six days away.

an immaculate erection

and we begin to manifest material into sturdy compounds

the ingredients

an empty canvas

coagulation

the perimeter

fuck that thing's tall

tomorrow we will fill it in. please come by

and it begins

we start building the hill tomorrow

wish us luck

the will made matter

and on the 275th day Yahweh said, "let there be quilts"

the bearer of seed

on dec. 16, when this project was initiated, the moon was the closest to the earth than it had been in 15 years.  tonight it is the closest it had been since that fateful day.  this sign can not be ignored.

auspicious

every movement is sacred

treasure even the ones your bowels make

56 

almost certainly a death will be involved

more photo phun

the process continues

we all turn into vegetables

it leans

the calcination

a funeral

inspiration

you should all check out my good friend greg's blog...his writing has been a constant inspiration for me and thusly aspects of this project.

edit: no that's not greg, that's mike. but yes that is lando.

Chapter 1: Wool :: the astronomer's story

5

wool

begins pre-production

week 1 progress, a photo essay:

wool bought

wool cut

wool sewn

wool in place

molecules magnified

banjos strummed

mille hypotheses chymicae de svbterraneis

And herein begins the beginning of the Artist's year long exploration of the great work.

The edict is as follows:

One Thousand Chemical Hypotheses Concerning the Subterranean Realms

A moving storybook of frothing fairy tale imagery culled from the primordial Prima Materia ebbing along the precipices of conscious perception.  Faceless terrifying ecstasies, beyond the confines of identities.  We the Artist, upon first shattering contact with that which is the infinite, cry out to the heavens at the loss of our name.  Flailing against that very wind which bore our spore, that very earth which imbued our veins with rainbow dream-stuff, that very sun who we mimic in our polemic fury.  Thusly:

as above so below

Without any other recourse we, the Artist, begin the trials of the Great Work.  Transmutation of matter.  Complete convergence with the throbbing Godhead.  Anti-Transfiguration. Love.

And as the Artist we are, we begin our journey through careful manipulation of those subtle vibrations.  An exploration of Our chaos in diplomatic fashion.  In so that we can bask in the waves of light and sound and spur on that cosmic gnosis!

as above so below

Despite how still we try to stand, we will vibrate those fluids!