Despite

David Buuck

1.

One narrative theory is that Agents are social beings. Equidistant from Los Alamos and Roswell, the artist Walter de Maria places poles in the landscape in order to construct a grid. The land is not the setting for the work but a part of the work. The poles are angled at eighty-eight degrees else lightening always strikes twice. The primary experience takes place within the grid. Weather is total.

One narrative theory is that social beings are agents. The grid is the imaginary frame by which it becomes possible to sense the spatial landscape. The grid dwarfs Agents, the grid in turn being dwarfed by the landscape, provoking Agents to realize their own relation to the spatial landscape. In that the grid itself cannot be comprehended in its totality, neither can the spatial landscape. Castles are sand that can't be shelter to kings. In that the spatial landscape cannot be comprehended in totality, neither can there be kings. Rabbits nibbling on apple cores are nervously aware that there can't be shelter from weather. Humility is nervous awareness of Agents not being rabbits.

There are three agents in the landscape who are not kings. The Agents' relation to the grid becomes paramount. Agent A's scale becomes paramount. Agent B's silence becomes paramount. Agent C's isolation becomes paramount. Humility is nervous awareness of Agents not being kings. The invisible is real.

The spatial relation of sky to the landscape is such that the clouds are pressed flat against an imaginary plane of glass. The imaginary plane rests upon the grid. One narrative theory is that Agents' minds function as the imaginary plane. The action is the air and wind and rain. So-called natural elements are grounding such that Agents' social being, in isolation, in being dwarfed, is grounded. That this is not separate from Agents' social being, but rather central to Agents' realization as social beings, is one effect. Rabbits nibbling on apple cores are nervously aware that lightening always strikes twice. Humility is nervous awareness of Agents not being total. The primary experience takes place within the social grid. Distance is total.

2.

One narrative theory is that one never dies in photographs. Equidistant from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the artist Kenji Yanobe builds nuclear-safe capsules within which he is photographed while being in Chernobyl. That the artist Kenji Yanobe would be in Chernobyl inhabiting sculptural objects for the ostensible sake of safety is troubling to one. That the photographs of the artist Kenji Yanobe inside nuclear-safe capsules while being in Chernobyl are aesthetically pleasing is troubling to one.

One narrative theory is that in desiring the apocalypse it is continually deferred. The artist Kenji Yanobe builds nuclear-safe capsules for sexual acts. Such acts are expressed outward as exhalations of perfumed music, compressed air modulated through anthropomorphic trumpets, so-called safe sex ironized into cartoon farts. That nuclear-safe capsules for sexual acts are aesthetically pleasing is troubling to one.

One narrative theory is that one's apocalypse is inside. Such apocalypse is not nuclear-safe, such sex is disharmonious, such art is a cartoon that is actual. Agents inside nuclear-safe capsules are not safe from themselves. Agents cannot be insulated in machines that are cartoon, in art that farts its own radioactivity.

There are three Agents in the capsules who are not cartoons. Agent Yellow breathes its own air. Agent Red eats its own waste. Agent Orange is the machine that desires its own apocalypse. That the technology necessary to provide safety for Agents is the same technology that produces the effects from which Agents desire safety is troubling, three, two, one. Castles are cartoon machines that can't be shelter to kings. There are no kings, only agents.

3.

The sky is always in relation to Agents' landscape. Even underground, though that's a dream. In dreams Agents' own minds are the relation of the imaginary plane to Agents' own underground landscape. The grid's only function is to provoke Agents' realization of Agents' own landscape in actuality. The grid exists so as to become invisible. The grid exists so that it doesn't have to. The invisible is real. Dreams are real. Shelter is context.

One narrative theory is that the sun never sets. Agent Yellow, from a distance, disappears into the landscape. Agent Red is still disappearing, though Agent Orange is still here. Perspective is constitutive of Agents' social being. Agents have different perspectives that are relational. Total perspective is ideology that can't be shelter to kings. Perspective is constitutive of Agents' social bearing. Context is shelter.

Being dwarfed is perspective that reduces distances between social beings. Relations between social beings provoke social bearings within the grid. Roswell and Los Alamos are two landscapes that provoke such social bearings. That the historical landscape dwarfs Agents, provoking such social bearings, is troubling to one. Hiroshima and Nagasaki are two landscapes that provoke such social bearings. Social bearings realize social grids that produce the social landscape. That Agent A might become grounded, in its isolation, is one effect. That Agent B might become grounded, in its social being, is one effect. That Agent C might become grounded, in its social bearings, is one effect. The social grid is constructed by the many social beings. Its construction is relational to the many social bearings. Perspective dwarfs the historical landscape. The sun never sets.

4.

Dystopia is this topia, the cynically willed non-place of the apocalyptic imaginary. Its filmy visuals are projected onto the imaginary plane of glass that rests upon the social grid. The sky is the image of the impending apocalypse. Its spectral traces appear transparent when viewed from the ground up. The sky is always falling, else the bottom falls out. Social beings labor at constructing the grid to support the imaginary plane. Agent-sweat is radioactive. Agents drink it as refreshment while awaiting the coming attractions.

One narrative theory is that one never dies in film. At the end of a long day of grid-building it is nice to lie on the ground and watch the bottom of the sky fall onto the imaginary plane. The ground is the imaginary plane of consciousness upon which social beings construct the social grid. Ideology is the nightmare made material by certain social bearings. The ideological grid exists so that it might become invisible. The ideological grid exists so that it doesn't have to. The invisible is reel-to-reel.

One narrative theory is that Agents are never awake, except in history. So-called nightmares are in actuality the history that Agents desire to have been merely dreamt. Underground is the collective repressed. At night it dreams itself through rabbit-holes into the social grid. One narrative theory is that one never dies in dreams. Rabbits nibbling at nuclear cores are nervously aware that history always strikes twice. Humility is nervous awareness of Agents awaking from dreams and being in history.

5.

The artist Kenji Yanobe's sculptural objects, in that they provide habitation, in the form of objects of safety and art, while at the same time being distancing, in that Agents are further distanced from the actual world, while still being in it, are troubling to one. That the artist Kenji Yanobe would be in Chernobyl inhabiting sculptural objects for the ostensible sake of art is troubling to one. That the art necessary to provide safety for Agents is the same art that produces the effects from which Agents desire safety, is troubling, four, three, agents, two, one. Agents are never safe from themselves.

The artist Kenji Yanobe's photographs, in that they document art providing safety, while at the same time being distancing, in that they are further distanced from Chernobyl, while still being in it, are troubling to one. The photographs are viewed outside of Chernobyl, in place of Chernobyl, as art and as safety. They are already happening, though in actuality they are not Chernobyl. Distance is safety. There's no distance in actuality. There's no safety.

The artist Kenji Yanobe has not yet built nuclear-safe capsules for rabbits nibbling apple cores. One narrative theory is that nervous awareness is not enough to prevent an apple core breach. That the wind from Chernobyl might kill the rabbits is troubling, four, them, three, to one. That the repeated vocalization of "Chernobyl" might become aesthetically pleasing by virtue of its repetition is troubling to one. There are sixty-six dead rabbits in the grid. Their bottoms have fallen out.

6.

Sentry posts guard the perimeter. Their dogs are in nuclear-safe capsules, making it difficult to chase the rabbits. Acid rain leaks into the underground reservoir. Social beings labor into a future that is still undecided. Agent-sweat is radioactive. Agents drink it as refreshment while awaiting the sky to fall. One narrative theory is that the sentry posts face in rather than out. Each pole waves a flag advertising the coming attractions. One narrative theory is that there is no perimeter.

Social beings that are also rabbits that live in underground bomb shelters. Castles made of pamphlet bomb shreddings can't be shelter for rabbit-kings. Rabbits have infrared night vision that always strikes twice. They drink from the radioactive reservoir that runs from Roswell to Los Alamos. That the wind from Los Alamos might kill the rabbits is troubling to one. The sentries put the sixty-six dead rabbits into piles to climb up and up. Else the bottom would fall out. That the repeated vocalization of "Los Alamos" might become aesthetically pleasing by virtue of its repetition is troubling five, four, three, to one.

One narrative theory is that dreams are underground nuclear tests. They mushroom into consciousness through rabbit-holes and anthropomorphic trumpets. Cartoon farts are air-raid sirens that go up and up. The music is the bomb. It makes the bottom fall out.

7.

The underground compartment containing radioactive warheads is called "The Pit". The warheads are angled at eighty-eight degrees, else the bottom falls out. Agent-sweat is radioactive. Agents drink it as refreshment while awaiting the bottom to fall out. That the bottom would fall out onto Agents' heads is troubling, six, five, four, three, troubling to one.

One narrative theory is that there is an underground nightclub called "The Pit," where rabbits push up and up. The player piano is programmed to perform eighty-eight degrees of sound, else the bottom falls out. Music is the distance of time within sound's detonation. The speed of sound is measured by the distance between lightening and its thunder. Agent Yellow never strikes twice. Agent Red is not a rocket scientist. Agent Orange is the bomb.

The speed of sound is measured by the distance between the bomber and the detonation of its payload. The warhead is programmed to perform eighty-eight degrees of separation. Its coin slides into its slot. Its music is the bomb, whose bottom falls out. The speed of light is measured by the detonation of the bomb within Agents' own bottoms falling out.

8.

One narrative theory is that one never dies in sculpture. Kenji Yanobe's sculptural objects evoke a nostalgia for an apocalypse that never happened. It is a nostalgia for the future of a past that is continually deferred to a present that hasn't happened yet. It's already happening. The so-called-and-ever-wished-for last instance never arrives, and yet the present is-and-always-is this very last instance. The apocalypse is always happening.

One narrative theory is that one consumes or is consumed. The artist Kenji Yanobe has produced a never-ending simulation of a survival cart race, which will protect Agents from radioactivity as long as Agents keep inserting coins into their nuclear-safe capsules. Agents must exit the capsule in order to insert the coins into its exterior anthropomorphic coin slots. There is no future here, only the present which enables Agents to survive as long as Agents keep consuming. The rabbits chew through the string that is used for the coin-slot coin trick. The only safety is to insert coins into another's coin slots in hopes that the other will do the same. Distance is the opposite of safety.

The artist Kenji Yanobe stands at the sentry post facing out, toward the ruins of the future. Rabbits have infrared vision that can see through the nuclear-safe capsule. The inside is lined with rabbit fur. It's a never-ending simulation of eighty-eight degrees inside. Agent-sweat is radioactive. Agents drink it as refreshment while awaiting the survival cart race.

9.

The social grid exists so as to become invisible. The social grid exists so that it doesn't have to. That the invisibility of the social grid might provoke the realization of the ideological landscape is troubling to one. Even underground, though that's a dream. The so-called social elements are the imaginary plane of social beings. The imaginary plane stretches out into the distance, held up by the many social beings. History never disappears.

The imaginary plane reaches from one pole to the next, grounded by the many social bearings. The present disappears into the historical landscape, though it's still here. That such disappearance into the historical landscape might be the forgetting of social bearings is troubling to one. Even underground, though that's a dream. History is the imaginary plane of social bearings. Here it is now, stretching out into the distance, held up by the many social bearings.

The social grid extends indefinitely into the future. Social beings labor at building it outward. The apocalypse of totality is continually deferred. Humility is nervous awareness that Agents are grid-workers. That the social bearings necessary to destroy the grid are the same social bearings that build the grid is troubling, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, agents, troubling, to, one.

10.

The Agents are in their survival carts. The carts fart perfumed radioactivity through anthropomorphic trumpets. Agent Orange breathes its own air. The music is air-raid sirens that go up and up. The rabbits' infrared vision burns through the string that is used for the coin-slot coin trick. Agent Red eats its own waste. It's a never-ending simulation of eighty-eight degrees inside. Agent Yellow drinks its own sweat. Agent-sweat is radioactive. Agents drink it as refreshment while awaiting the coins to run out.

Agent A puts its coin into Agent B's coin slot. Agent B puts its coin into Agent C's coin slot. Agent C puts its coin into Agent A's coin slot. There are no kings to make more coins, so the grid-poles are dismantled and melted into currency. Without the poles, the imaginary plane's bottom falls out. The grid collapses into itself. The perimeters collapse into their centers. Agents trade in their narrative theories for the few remaining coins. The sun is setting. The social bearings are detonated. In the last instance coins fall to the ground in piles that go up and up. The sky is falling.

Agent Yellow's survival cart is red. Agent Red's survival cart is orange. Agent Orange's survival cart is yellow. As they collapse into one another, the detonation provokes the sunset. From a distance the shutters click shut. That the sunset is a film that is aesthetically pleasing is troubling, ten, nine, eighty-eight degrees, seven, sixty-six rabbits, five, four, whom, three, agents, troubling, to, one. Action.


Postscript

One narrative theory is that there is always another narrative theory. Action is choosing. The film reel is stuck in the machine. The so-called sunset is merely the melting celluloid of one possible future. The machine is the apocalyptic imaginary that desires its own foreclosure. Agent Orange has killed off Agents A and B, Agents Red and Yellow. But Agent C has managed to elude such foreclosure. New grids are being constructed by social beings with different social bearings. Action is choosing made material by certain social bearings. Humility is nervous awareness that action is total. It's already happening.

One narrative theory is that one never dies in writing. The writing cannot in actuality provide safety. It is a machine desiring its own apocalypse. In actuality it is its own social being, desiring its own narrative theory. Here it is now, stretching out into the distance, held up by its social bearings. Agent C is writing itself onto the imaginary plane. The script has yet to be finished. It's already happening.

 

Issue One
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