Utopia07.cda

No place here.mp3

This place was given the name out of Thomas More's pit of satire in 1516. Empires ahead, and we find ourselves in Kubrick's white spaces with traces of the past. It's not the same - people and places change. I recently put a metaphysical bookmark of my life on death row: my Instagram from 2012 (- 2026 RIP). This was a virtual spirit of my young adulthood from 18 to 31. I'm waving my photos, followers, follows, conversations and the stalkers on the shore, as I slowly drift into the sea. I can put the memories in their natural place: in my head. I've realised that it's what's kept me stuck at 18. With this account gone, I can finally put the chapter of crushes and unrequited loves behind me and live out the rest of my life organically, with a fulfilling adult life. I want to feel what the adults felt, before the internet took over and infantilised the adult ego. 

Rejection.mp3

I have another account, but it's private and only has 13 followers I know in real life. I can post random things and not care about how I'm perceived. In my public artist account, when I posted, I felt like I was duping people I know in real life of this persona I don't embody. I want the organic lifestyle more than the strategic one, like following people out of artistic-career obligation. 'Maybe I'm not an artist in the 21st century sense, but at least I'm free from the moral-social obligation of one.' There's something very obvious in the art world on social media - artworks don't get judged based on their own merit. It's always married to the artists' social status and social/institutional connections. I want fairness, and in respect of knowledge, I think it's problematic. This is why I'd rather leave the sham and be a loner, I just want to pursue it for its own sake. (Showing another example of the voice, exit and loyalty model)

A clearer view of this place.mp3

This [inner] place isn't in the physical realm that’s bound within time. It's a place beyond politics where the thinkers, the polymaths, and the people who taught me and know about IT reside. I can’t describe IT accurately. It's a place that's open to interpretation, maybe even resists interpretation. Some would argue that it's outside, but even I don't know- it’s filtered through into my imagination. I just sense people I vibe with (when you meet someone who knows IT, you just know), the cold scientific observation is just memories and neurons interacting with each other, but that is where there is a disconnect between the subject and object - the seeing the tangible vs the experiencing intangibility. 

However, I believe the entrance to this place is a personal path one takes. When someone showed me their artwork a decade ago, it felt like a moment of 'finally, someone gets me'. But I think this was a mistake, because the psychological distance is too close. At least it's not something to be openly acknowledged. There was something deeply wrong [on several levels] with him putting me on some pedestal and saying to me, 'Look at this naked woman turning away from the world, and staring at a white space of nothing, but isn't scared', whilst looking at me, whilst I was looking at the work. It was a problem because this was not meant to happen, as enlightenment is an individual endeavour. I descended into psychosis a month afterwards. The self aware can’t directly-openly acknowledge another self aware. It doesn’t work like that. There has to be one container and one contained from a Jungian perspective. Can’t be two containers. I haven’t figured it out, but I know something went wrong there [later findings: the symbolic relations is out of place]

Enthusiasm as sacred energy.mp3

I read that the psychoanalytic explanation of psychosis is when there is too much libido [energy] attained in a short amount of time. I think that's what's happened. Another interpretation is when the person gets swallowed by the shadow. I don't believe it was drug-induced, because I feel I was spiked during the episode when I absconded from the hospital.

Avoidants' curse.mp3

My second psychosis happened after someone else, too close for comfort, put me on a pedestal. Nothing was said directly, but there was a feeling that I was being put on a pedestal of some sort. I also did something wrong, where I almost made someone go through this when I told them how I felt, and was expecting a polite no thanks, but instead witnessed her act out codes on Instagram shortly after. She was showing me her or my lack/ a collective lack framed around language, and I hated it. I blocked her at one point to make the pain stop. Reaching one’s hand for a ripe fruit then being shocked when another hand reaches back. Maybe that racing heart is really just intense fear.

“What we give in love, is essentially what we do not have and, when what we do not have returns to us, there is undoubtedly a regression and at the same time a revelation of the way in which we have failed the person (manque a la personne) in representing his lack.” (Seminar X, 30th January, 1963). 

[Researching this topic is making me angry, but I can’t stop researching it]

I'm starting to see it as a way to get people to back off from becoming too close / keep the desire at bay, even though it's pathological/immature. Maybe it's karma, and it's probably best I'm in the post-infatuated/in latency period now. I definitely thought too much about this. Enthusiasm is sacred energy and isn’t one to give away light-heartedly. Maybe this is why people complain that dating apps are draining?

Gravity. Nothing quite captures the cultural zeitgeist we're in without an out-of-context clip from a sci-fi film

Quiet at sea.mp3

This is probably I prefer solitude and peace now. It's less exciting but more grounded. It's one of the reasons why I have to delete Instagram. I have to. It doesn't have a place left for me. Imagine seeing the architecture of a play: the props and curtain to only to be told to ignore it again and pretend it’s real. 

Plus I like the feeling of being out at sea/lost in space/lost in the forest [pick an overused metaphorical scenario] I think my way home is through my memories, but it's not a public-life or even a group setting endeavour (something that is in fashion right now). So I'm going to hide from the media-art world circus like a Jedi going to self-imposed exile. Some might tut and think I’m an idiot for wearing an invisibility cloak, but I think not entering it while I’m alive is a smarter choice.

My physics teacher from year 11 was talking about mirrors. He used a student as a verbal demonstration - he said, ‘the student can’t go into the mirror to retrieve her reflection. If she does, she will get hurt.’ I don’t believe he was talking about GCSE physics only. It’s funny how the other side is labelled as virtual reality, even in physics. But that’s probably forgotten about among augmented reality.

‘But as if to temper this danger there is an interesting twist in the mirror stage theory, introduced in Seminar VII. Not only is it the case, Lacan says, that the mirror gives the subject mastery over his or her previously-fragmented body, but it also has a secondary function as a barrier to keep the object inaccessible. The mirror, he says, “fulfils another role, a role as limit. It is that which cannot be crossed. And the only organisation in which it participates is that of the inaccessibility of the object” (Seminar VII, p.151).’

What Does Lacan Say About… Love? – LACANONLINE.COM