- There are so many questions that are impossible to ask because they seem impossible to answer. How can I, in this form so shaped by the world, ever have a clear enough head to find out what is really going on? I may ask – ‘how do I find love?’ or ‘how do I make art?’ or ‘how can I exist in this world with others and be understood?’ Maybe I know the answers already but too often I am driven to make them fit into a framework that supports my lack of clarity – why else would I ask? Someone, or something else is required to give me objectivity (a moment of objectivity that I will then project onto). If research is a way of moving on then what is it I need to know?
- I ask the I Ching. The reply: Hexagram 27, Nourishing. The corners of the mouth (providing nourishment). A nourishing hole. What goes in? What comes out? This is a gateway to being whole. You have fed me laughter and tears. Gateways to not knowing. An Abyss in six parts.
- I ask Georges Bataille. He replies: It is entirely in the act of posing being as a problem for myself, being as completely unknown, and of throwing myself into this nonunderstanding [non-connaisance], that I discover an experience not only as rich as religious experience but, it seems to me, even richer, more profound, if that’s possible, because in this experience I separate myself further from the experience of the profane life, wherein we entirely adhere to objects that have only an extremely debatable right over us, a right these objects acquired by the isolated fact that we are hungry, by the isolated fact that we can suffer, by the isolated fact that fear often governs our actions. In the experience of nonknowledge about which I am speaking, if there remains a religious experience, it is entirely detached from our anxiety over the future, it is entirely detached from a possible and threatening suffering that would govern this future, it is no more than a game. (Nonknowledge, Laughter and Tears)
- We stare into eachother’s eyes playing the game of who will blink first. I win. We continue with who can keep a straight face. I lose. Your serious expression sends me into kinks of laughter. I like to be this close to you, so close we can’t see each other.
- This is a hexagram, a piece of quartz that has six sides. This side reflects itself. You are my mirror. Please tell me what to do next.
- The Hermit. I separate myself further. In a cave by the sea I crave the ecstasy of ignorance. In this dark hole lights flash across the walls, or are they in my eyes? Images of men march over the rock along with words (RIVER-BED, crystal synchronisation), numbers (4,17, 25, 80). The colour of the walls is blue, blue, blue. My face is wet. Socrates has died and I no longer love the world. I crawl deeper into the hole at the back of the cave. I slide down, down, down. Through the darkness of invisible crystal caverns. I have no guide into the underworld.
For Lea Torp Nielsen