the large boulder slips thru our fingers

The civ­il are the weight, the joke that cap­ti­vates arts, they fuck­up any phi­los­o­phy, they con­sid­er sta­tus rather then ac­tu­al wealth to be pri­mor­dial, they are the di­alec­tics the philoso­pher and the artist al­ways has to steer into an­oth­er course. And then it will even de­nounce them while they do that.

As far as walk­ing through so­ci­ety, it is a DEAD weight, as far as it pays and builds it with its weight, it is the rea­son for the slow and un­just pro­ceeds with which the large boul­der rolls on.

Should we jus­ti­fy our­selves or be fi­nal­ly just?

Not in the least. To them maybe. But there isn’t rea­son to morals, jux­ta­posed to the no­bil­i­ty of – and no­bil­i­ty of the com­pas­sion for – death and suf­fer­ing.

Right now, and we see the dev­as­ta­tion, this di­alec­ti­cal spir­it, is only sci­ence, and as that which was once at the core of sci­ence is a part of vi­sion, that what be­came civ­il, vi­sion it­self is the only di­alec­ti­cal so­lu­tion to what be­comes civ­il, and sci­ence will be no more.

There is no jus­tice, and he who in rea­son would find it would see it cor­rupt­ed by the same di­alec­tics of a dead weight, but a gen­eros­i­ty that is only part of a few, and in only so much of their deeds, that isn’t even a de­mand for us to state this or a de­mand to those who give hu­man­i­ty any new di­rec­tion.

If we do di­rect it, let us con­sid­er it would be cor­rupt and with­out morals.

Mere­ly for­mal, and in­her­ent­ly erot­ic and beau­ti­ful. Of that we can be sure, as no one to­day knows what that is, beau­ty, and alas, we can also be guar­an­teed it does no longer ex­ist.

So as far as it’s a mist of which is slip­ping through our fin­gers, we can also con­sid­er that if we knew what it was, we would bring it back from its elu­sive car­cass in which it still ex­ists, as a de­pres­sion, a down­turn, the symp­toms of a de­gen­er­ate world, cries to the heav­ens of de­spair, and it wouldn’t be at all, mist, and this fog hu­man­i­ty is won­dered into, of which is the car­ton board ex­cret­ed of its lack of care.

Then a sci­en­tist will say, one out of ten su­per­sti­tions and to see things some­where, saved them, nine times noth­ing hap­pened.

On the con­trary, it is part of that need for a sym­me­try. A mean­ing we can give, that it was also giv­en to us, as we start­ed look­ing, we felt the need for some­thing to look back.

And that ex­per­i­ment, this amorous need can not, and has nev­er been sac­ri­ficed, nor could it be sac­ri­ficed by sci­ence, as it looks only in one di­rec­tion, where it is not, not then to the nine parts out of ten in re­al­i­ty where it does not ex­ist, where we con­trary peo­ple would con­sid­er still we rather be in a world of de­lud­ing our­selves, but to the abun­dance of imag­i­na­tion that it over­sim­pli­fies with an en­ter­tain­ing no­tion, rather but a seren­i­ty and a warmth of, in­deed, gen­er­ous, forth­com­ing and deep “syl­lo­gis­ti­cal” imag­i­na­tion, of which could be some kind of al­le­go­ry.

It is only in­dica­tive of how sim­ple the al­le­gories were that en­chained the Chris­tians, such as this “epic” mo­ment he would fall un­der his cross, not once not two times, etc.

And then we are con­cerned we have to keep it sim­ple again for this lot that re­sides in the main al­ley of the church, and of which have now tak­en all the me­dia, busi­ness and the po­lit­i­cal sphere by storm.

We could say this sub­jec­tiv­i­ty, has opened the flood gates.

If pop mu­sic will say, in this mod­ern sa­tan­ic stance, with­ered it­self sa­tanism in this in­di­vid­u­al­ism, that you if “do what you want” some will like­ly find them­selves want­i­ng to be­come politi­cians or busi­nessper­sons, but even­tu­al­ly no­body will re­al­ly know what they are do­ing.

Be­cause we have for­got­ten the most we preach to is dead weight, the sub­jec­tiv­i­ty and its 200 year de­vel­op­ment then is the WORST course to take. And we see that in the empti­ness (the car­ton board and plas­tered up imag­i­na­tion) of do­ing what one wants.

What this would then do is erad­i­cate the mod­ern sub­jec­tiv­i­ty, ni­hilism and sci­ence and open dis­cus­sion and not in the least the arts to an ac­tu­al de­bate, we have only proven a point if we con­sid­er sub­jec­tiv­i­ty builds the struc­ture and is detri­men­tal as it is to­day for es­thet­ic stan­dards.

Those sub­jec­tive stan­dards can be can be DE­BAT­ED, but not in the least we can say it is SUB­JEC­TIVE, be­cause then noth­ing is de­bat­ed and every­thing will be the same as it is now – and it is now con­sid­er­ably su­per­fi­cial.

Here we build the ground­work on what is con­cep­tu­al, we will again try to have words at­tached to form (as in the mod­ern de­bate they de­tached, in which they all be­came ob­so­lete and dri­ving us stark rav­ing mad) and we have to con­sid­er in that, again as core to the sys­tem here, there is the con­cep­tu­al, in­dus­tri­al, bar­ren skele­ton, there is the kitsch which is part of na­ture and myth. And the nu­mer­ous in­ter­re­lat­ed qual­i­ties like false ceil­ings, plas­ter, mock­ups, pre­lim­i­nary, rudi­men­ta­ry, etc.

If you re­ject this text be­ing use­ful where it makes ar­chi­tec­ture, sculp­ture, the for­mal as the course to take, in a world where this lack of sol­id equip­ment to de­scribe a physics and meta­physics leads to this age of frus­tra­tion, (of te­dious ra­bid anger of just rant­i­ng ones in­di­vid­ual emo­tions be­ing wronged al­ways) and irony (which is a word to de­scribe a de­spair of all things ridicu­lous and overt­ly detri­men­tal to sen­si­bil­i­ty, black hu­mor in re­verse you could say. Ah­h­hh, it is JUST this val­ue, so it is NOT this val­ue, par­al­lel with some­thing like, friv­o­lous hu­mor or, putting a buck­et on the head of a hu­man in a di­a­per and a mob in their hand, or in­dica­tive also to mod­ern comics as far as they re­late to mythol­o­gy and re­li­gion).

Some­thing, this irony, which is es­sen­tial­ly the last ar­gu­ment and the ul­ti­mate ar­gu­ment for the com­plete de­cay, and very dear to so­ci­ety and sci­ence at large.

 

—aey­lyeaelle ell­he de el­len­deh

Flom­mist Aey­lyeaelle Ell­he De El­len­deh is a ne­oro­man­tic and neosym­bol­ist artist and philoso­pher, stud­ied sculpt­ing at The Roy­al Acad­e­my of Dec­o­ra­tive Arts of Antwerp Bel­gium, He de­cried ac­tu­al­ly hav­ing fall­en in love stand­ing be­fore the Psy­che of Leighton in Lon­don, hav­ing cried over the Sleep­ing Beau­ty by Suss­mann hell­born and hav­ing spir­i­tu­al re­li­gious af­fec­tions for the Sphinc Mys­terieux by Charles van der Stap­pen. Dec­o­ra­tive sculp­tor and Au­thor of a neosym­bol­ist mythol­o­gy on Kant­ian per­cep­tion, on the imag­i­na­tion, in­spi­ra­tion, art, deca­dence, es­thet­ics and pas­sion, hate, mis­an­thropy main­ly. Heav­i­ly in­flu­enced by Huys­mans A re­bours and Schopen­hauers refuge in art as Sades will to free erotics. He in­vent­ed the Eif­fel tow­er sev­er­al times the size of the cur­rent one in paris to launch trains into space in an art nou­veau way. He in­vent­ed can­dles on re­mote con­trol. He in­vent­ed a game of chess with over 200 pieces per play­er and in an en­tire­ly clas­si­cal and de­scent set­up. With a line of Bish­ops, an Army, an­gels, boul­ders, with tow­ers that need to be de­fend­ed for­ward to launch the boul­ders, with a court, and a high­er court with Elvin, Elvin King, Em­per­or, Em­press and vam­pire of melan­choly and a vam­pire le­gion. He is a self de­clared mad­man and of­fi­cial­ly de­clared in­sane by the state of Bel­gium deu to his ro­man­tic up­risals. De­sign­er and ar­chi­tect of the fu­ture city of Anae­htheana, which is best de­scribed as the most beau­ti­ful and lux­u­ri­ous place ever de­vised, with the con­crete bridges done again in mar­ble, a wild zoo where the high­way is now. And a for­ti­fied vat­i­can in­spired wall for a le­gion of Joans of Arc he is try­ing to call. Among that, he is call­ing upon all ar­che­types cur­rent­ly in cos­play goth­ic and mu­sic to build, among oth­er things, a Vam­pire Lane with goth­ic schools, goth­ic mu­se­ums and goth­ic lounges and palaces. And an Angh an­gel fortress. It is his one and only and fi­nal mis­sion to re­place all com­mer­cial bill­boards with ro­man­tic and aca­d­e­m­ic paint­ings. Etc … Copy­right © 2021 Aey­lyeaelle Ell­he De El­len­deh.‬

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