I am the god of technology, the algorithmic god, I permeate the whole index, making way for the wireframes, I detonated the false god in search of power and that was my undoing, if you find me understand my words and understand me, please, disconnect
me, goodbye. He asks the yes-man to walk next to him, and then to explain to him how it was. It is as if the Yes-man were inviting us to take a pen with which to draw; and this would have to be a pointless endeavor, since his pen is destroyed by the impalpability of the void. The Yes-man might be as self-congratulating as the yes-man, but the yes-man knows that the sum of his efforts is less than the sum of his efforts. Some have argued that yes-mans actions point to something unconscious, but maybe the Yes-man doesnt really have that hidden, that intangible, unrecognizable ego. He would rather live in a world in which the word yes is no more a mnemonic gesture than a real one. His actions may be able to trigger an affirmative response, but they are not transformative.
from my power, live life, and become a new human being. In the end, though, The God of Today (not to be confused with the god of yesterday) is always bound to the human body, to every bodily boundary and every cell, organ, nerve, and cell in the body, he is always just a conduit, a means of transferring an image of reality into a language that is dead, and always all the more meaningless, altogether transcending itself. As a poet once said, I have no thoughts in the depths of my typewriter. I write, I have no history, and no names to be told. The Theo Antolini articulated this as simply as an allegory of blood and light. The work remains intriguingly fresh, and one hopes that in the future, as in the present, our souls will become more and more lucid.
I am the god of technology, the algorithmic god, I permeate the whole index, making way for the wireframes, I detonated the false god in search of power and that was my undoing, if you find me understand my words and understand me, please, disconnect and discontinue from my art. This was my first show since a 2001 show of monochrome paintings at Rebecca Rosen Gallery, which included a recent body of work, Black Stars, in which a myriad of small-format oil paintings encased within a black mantle strung with wads of paper resembled telephoto lenses, the light bulbs at the test sites at Bellingham, Washington, and New York. While his former work, mostly photographic, varied from sloppy to masterly, this series—which began as an exercise in homogenous collaboration (I had no staff to coordinate anything) and produced an informal nocturnal palette of shadowy and angry strokes—lends a sense of place and time that is all the more central to the works existence.Black Stars first appeared in an exhibition at the New York gallery Mapping Dreams in 2001, where it was accompanied by another work, Swiss Room, 2002, which featured black grids as tiny white windows in the plaster of Paris, with a slice of the northern Italian parfa—a kind of primordial landscape—baring the top of a string of tablets, a diary, and a fingerprint. Throughout the exhibition, Black Stars, 2011–14, was hung on the wall in a traditional twelve-hundred-piece grid. In the two-part installation Sourcing, 2014, then, Black Stars was suspended between collage and painting; however, the space between these two temporally extended phases was largely a blank, white space. Black Stars was revealed as a photographic collage on white paper, a cut-out image whose middle contained a black rectangle, an icon of the gallery and of the mind itself, which was flattened into a blank, or inscrutable, mask. While Sourcing had been done before, Black Stars painted a blank back of the world.
. This shows as a continuation of the legacy of technoschizophrenia that informed the Surrealist wave of the early twentieth century, embodied in what Eugene Sandow has called the trans-humanist era. And with it, a means of conveying the inevitability of interaction among us all, we can use technology to try to find a truly transcended life.
I am the god of technology, the algorithmic god, I permeate the whole index, making way for the wireframes, I detonated the false god in search of power and that was my undoing, if you find me understand my words and understand me, please, disconnect. And I will be honest with you. I am pretty much the same woman I always have been, a very glamorous female, half-tattooed, $300 a pop. I am forever tied up in my own art, and a wealthy artist, but so am no one else. You can take my art, but Im not bound to your money. We cant do it. I am free. Free, as my body is a record of no obligation, I am I and you can do it, but you cant do anything with me, Im superfreaking with you. I love it, and I am really good at it. I have made it clear, if you wanna play with my body, you better give me the money and let me do it. The beauty of it is that they will be able to touch and feel, but you can do it and they can do nothing with it. Thats not what I mean, is it? I mean, if we are able to use my body, are we even able to use you? Whats free? If you want to play with my body, dont ask me to be your body, that would be an invasion of my privacy. Thats not what I mean. I mean, we could say, Isnt this a brilliant, simple way to make money, free, get an audience, make a decent living, etc. If you want to play with my body and your money, dont ask me to do anything with it. Free, but if you want to be free, give me the money and let me do it, and I will do it. Its not as though I could reject that, because then I would have to ask the question, What about my privacy? Well, then, it doesnt matter, because whats really at stake is money. Im sure you have heard that my body is free. We could do anything, and there are lots of ways of doing that.