Sologamy (With Reference to the Case of Laura Mesi)

 Image Credit: Niño Jose Heredia / Gulf News (2017)

I've been waiting for me to come along - 

And now I've swept myself off my feet!

The case of 40-year-old Italian fitness trainer, Laura Mesi, has brought the subject of sologamy back into the public arena, with many commentators perplexed and angered at the idea of self-marriage ...

Predictably, the charge of narcissism is often made against those who take themselves up the aisle, as if this were the most terrible of all imaginable crimes. Ironically, however, it's a charge that is itself born of narcissism; for the anti-narcissist is essentially objecting to the fact that there are some people who don't find them attractive as a potential spouse and they're offended by that.

Other critics sneer at sologamy as a transparent and profoundly sad attempt by (mostly) single women attempting to rationalise loneliness and justify isolation as an affirmative lifestyle choice; i.e. the ultimate act of individual autonomy and empowerment.          

Personally, I don't see any need for nastiness and hope Laura and all the other self-loving sologamists live happily ever after. However, what interests me more remains the idea of divorcing the self - i.e., of releasing the self from the self [se déprendre de soi-même] as Foucault would say, offering thus a rather amusing definition of freedom.

Ultimately, ethics is not a question of remaining faithful to the self, but, rather, of subjective infidelity; of learning how to answer not I do, but No, I don't, when asked if you wish to have and to hold on to yourself, in sickness and in health, until death do you part.

Satanic News 2: The Case of Dilara Findikoglu and Her Infernal Fashion Show

II: The Case of Dilara Findikoglu and Her Infernal Fashion Show


Our second story concerns a fashion show held at historic central London church St. Andrew Holborn, as part of London Fashion Week (15-19 September, 2017); a show that the ex-Bishop of Rochester, Michael Nazir-Ali, and other leading clerics condemned as blasphemous and unacceptable in its satanic aspect.

To be fair, the show did involve heavily made-up models and drag queens dressed as demons and vampires strutting their stuff along the aisle and posing in front of the altar. Some had horns on their head and some displayed inverted crosses between bare-breasts, so the clergymen aren't getting their cassocks in a twist entirely without cause.

But what did they expect? For the show featured the work of London-based Turkish designer Dilara Findikoglu, whose creations are popular with celebrities who like to provoke controversy and display a supposedly rebellious character whilst wearing expensively tailored clothes. What's more, Ms Findikoglu has spoken openly of her puerile (and, ironically, passé) fascination with magic and the world of the occult.

At the end of the day, she didn't break into St. Andrew's - it was hired from the Church of England authorities and surely it's their responsibility to exercise due caution and protect the sacredness of the space entrusted to them? To claim that they took the booking in good faith and were completely unaware of the show's content and themes, is a pretty piss-poor excuse.

An investigation into the matter is apparently now being carried out. Perhaps they might begin by asking why it is the Church feels so comfortable renting out its properties for secular activities and commercial purposes.

As for Ms Findikoglu, well, she's young; she can do better than this: and will, I'm sure, when she learns that when it comes to fashion, the devil's in the detail not shock-horror cliché. 

To read part one of this post on the case of Sister Maria Crocifissa della Concezione, click here.

Satanic News 1: The Case of Sister Maria Crocifissa della Concezione and the Devil's Letter

Satan, the so-called Prince of Darkness, has been in the headlines this month and I would like to discuss two recent news stories, beginning with ...

I: The Case of Sister Maria Crocifissa della Concezione and La Lettera del Diavolo 


A mysterious letter from 1676, previously believed to be nonsensical, has finally had its diabolical contents deciphered by scientists using code-breaking software found - appropriately enough - on the dark web.

Written shortly after entering the Benedictine convent in Palma di Montechiaro aged fifteen, Sister Maria Crocifissa della Concezione claimed that her hands were possessed by Satan and that he, not she, should be regarded as its true author. Unable to make (horned) head or (pointed) tail of the letter's contents, her fellow nuns believed her story and - rather surprisingly - put the letter on display, where it remained, unfathomed and seemingly unfathomable, for 340 years.

Until, that is, a team from the Ludum Science Centre in Catania, finally succeeded in translating parts of the text. Unfortunately, it seems that Satan didn't have anything unexpected to tell us on this occasion. He dismisses the divine forces of goodness as burdensome, like dead weights around the neck of mankind and says that morality is a dysfunctional system that benefits no one. He also contrasts God's promise of salvation with the freedom to sin that he offers.

Mostly, however, the letter remains incomprehensible and prone to logical inconsistency, mixing as it does several languages, even those said to be incompatible, into a kind of textual babble that only the wicked might find pleasurable. Whether this is evidence of the Devil's presence, or shows that Sister Maria suffered from some kind of mental disorder, is not for me to say ...


To read part two of this post on the case of Dilara Findikoglu, click here. 

Psychoceramics (Clinical Notes on Cranks and Crackpots)

We are the psycho-ceramics; 

the cracked pots of mankind.

A friend writes to complain about my use of the pejorative term crackpot:

"You use this tabloid-sounding term far too often as a lazy, rhetorical dismissal of people you don't sympathise with and whose views you frequently fail to understand. And, ultimately, isn't everyone's pot a bit damaged in some manner?"

To be fair, he might have a point; maybe I do use this term too often and maybe we do all have idiosyncrasies and mental health issues to deal with.

However, I borrowed the word crackpot from an Adam Ant song rather than the popular press, and I like to think it functions within my text as a specific critical and clinical term to refer to individuals who have an abnormal understanding of what constitutes factual evidence and thus enter into anomalous and sometimes sinister relationships with reality and what is generally accepted as the truth (e.g. the earth is a spherical object that orbits the sun).

Such individuals - often known as cranks as well as crackpots - are invariably people of faith; that is to say, they hold firm and fixed beliefs rather than ideas that are open to interrogation, thus rendering rational discourse impossible. Once they make their minds up on any given subject they cannot be persuaded otherwise. Thus the crazy often resemble broken records as well as cracked pots; endlessly repeating the same thing over and over, forever stuck in a groove.      

In 1992, American mathematical physicist John Baez came up with an amusing checklist, known as the Crackpot Index, that was designed to help identify cranky individuals and the way their minds (mal)function and I would encourage readers to check it out by clicking here.

Baez, like others who are interested in this condition, demonstrates that all crackpots share certain traits, characteristics, and obsessions. Perhaps the key feature is overestimating their own knowledge and ability, whilst underestimating (or dismissing entirely) that of leading experts.

Prone to paranoia as well as megalomania, crackpots also invariably subscribe to conspiracy theories and claim that their unorthodox views and revolutionary discoveries are being suppressed by mainstream science, big business, the government - or sometimes all three under the control of alien overlords. Or the Jews.  

And so, whilst I'm grateful to my friend for taking time to write, I think he should allow me my continued usage of the term crackpot and, further, I would suggest he investigates the work of Josiah S. Carberry, the leading authority in the field of psychoceramics.

For whilst I agree that it's pleasant and proper to be foolish once in a while, insanity marks a loss of conscious integrity and the point at which creativity terminates. And so, whilst a work of art or theory can reveal the presence of unreason, there are, technically, no mad scientists or mad poets.  


Note: the image above is of Jack Nicholson as Randle Patrick McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (dir. Miloš Forman, 1975); a film based on a novel of the same title by Ken Kesey (1962). The paraphrased line is from Pt. III, Ch. 2.  

The Internet of Stings: On Apiculture and the Question Concerning Technology

Most people have heard about the so-called Internet of Things (IoT), which, basically, involves embedding computer chips in everyday objects thereby enabling them to send and receive data and to be connected into one great network via the internet.

But many of these people assumed that the things referred to would be inanimate objects; phones, fridges, cars, kettles, central heating systems, etc. with the aim of making dumb things smart or artificially intelligent.

Only a few realised that living beings would also be made part of the IoT. Thus it is that cows, seals, sharks, and now bees are being brought into line by putting them online; a project that we might term die Gleichshaltung von Insekten  ...

Initiating in Manchester, it's hoped that bees across the UK will eventually be fitted with RFID chips on their backs so that researchers can track their behaviour and movements. Their homes will also be bugged (no pun intended), so that hive information - such as temperature - can be monitored and processed.

The aim, it's claimed, is to help the endangered creatures survive in age of colony collapse disorder by enabling the insects to provide status updates and tweet their locations.

And there I was thinking that we just had to plant more wild flowers, use less neonic pesticides and remember that beekeeping is essentially a practice requiring care, rather than a question concerning technology ...  

Time/Flies

dobrador.com 

Like most normal people, I hate flies; particularly that universal pest Musca domestica and its slightly larger relative, the bluebottle (Calliphora vomitoria). Only lunatics and Satanists find these carrion-loving, shit-eating, disease-spreading creatures genuinely attractive.

Having said that, my pteronarcophobia doesn't prevent me from conceding that flies are fantastic little machines of great scientific interest and ecological importance. And the fact that they have been buzzing about in huge numbers in almost every terrestrial habitat since the Middle Triassic period (i.e. for about 240 million years) is certainly something; for that's not only way prior to man, but long, long before there were even flowers.

Arguably, it's even more impressive when one realises that what is an almost inconceivable amount of time for man, is even longer for a fly. For research suggests that perception of time is not something universally shared across species and that for flies time passes far slower than it does for humans.

As an evolutionary rule, it seems that the smaller an animal is and the faster its metabolic rate, the slower time passes for it - and flies are very small with a very high metabolic rate. Because their large compound eyes can perceive light flickering up to four times faster than ours, they essentially see the world moving in slow motion.

Which is why, of course, the little fuckers so often manage to evade being swatted; being able to perceive time differently to a lumbering ape with a rolled up newspaper, is, in this case, literally the difference between life and death.

Of course, as one of the researchers into this area points out, having eyes that send updates to the brain at much higher frequencies is only of value if that brain can process the information just as quickly and lead to good decision making. Hence, we have to admit that even the tiny brains of flies have mighty capabilities and that - for now at least - insect intelligence remains far more astonishing than even the most advanced AI.

They may not be deep thinkers, but they're not so mindless after all ...                  

Note: those interested in knowing more about the current research into the eyes of flies and their perception of time, should visit the BBC science and environment web page and read the recent article by Rory Galloway: click here. 

Thanks to Simon Solomon for suggesting this post and providing the link.

Reflections on The Bat 2: Germaine Richier and Her Art of Becoming-Animal

Germaine Richier: La Chauve-souris (1946) 

Dimensions: 89 x 91 x 59.5 cm

Theodore Roethke's uncanny verse, The Bat, brings to mind many things; D. H. Lawrence's own poetic encounters with bats; Dick Kulpa and Bob Lind's journalistic fiction, the Bat Boy; and, of course, Germaine Richier's terrifying sculpture from 1946, also entitled (in English) The Bat.

Having written about Lawrence's chiropteran poetry and the Bat Boy elsewhere on this blog, it's Richier and her work I wish to discuss here ...     

Germaine Richier was a highly individual 20th century French sculptress. Whilst she had a rather classical approach - preferring, for example, to work from a live model before then reworking the finished piece - her work was often anomalous in theme; she loved to model spiders and insects, as well as monstrous human-animal hybrids. After the War, her style became less conventionally figurative; the bodily deformations that often characterized her work became ever-more accentuated and extreme in an attempt to convey her ever-greater sense of existential angst.

Her Christ figure, for example, although originally commissioned by the Church and designed for the Chapel of Assy, caused outrage and was eventually removed by order of a bishop, who objected not only to the fact that the body of Christ was indistinguishable from the Cross on which it hung (the wood and flesh having fused into one object), but that the figure was also faceless (readers of Deleuze and Guattari will understand why this is so profoundly problematic).

Interesting as this work and the controversy surrounding it are, it's her experimental 1946 piece, La Chauve-souris, that fascinates me most, however, created shortly after returning to Paris from Zurich, where she and her husband had spent the war years. In making The Bat, Richier employed a new technique of dipping rope fibre in plaster, before then draping it over a metal frame.  

As indicated, Richier had a real penchant for portraying (usually female) figures with insect or arachnoid characteristics. But this work was the first time she'd attempted to produce a mouse with wings wearing a human face. Just looking at the small, recognisably human head atop the elongated neck of this creature gives me the willies, in the same way that Roethke's poem creeps me out.

For like her American contemporary, Richier seems to have a great love for things belonging to the natural world, but it's a love that goes way beyond nostalgia for her childhood in rural southern France that some critics insist upon. Richier, like Roethke, appears to have discovered an unsettling, Lovecraftian truth about the latter - what we might term the perverse immorality of nature; the fact that nature is paradoxically invested with elements that are unnatural and preternatural (just as we also contain within our humanity aspects that are nonhuman, inhuman and, perhaps, overhuman).    

What excites Richier as an artist, I think, is not the fact that things naturally evolve, but that they are also subject to a process of becoming, with this latter understood not as the slow unfolding of an essence towards fixed identity, but the affirmation of difference conceived as a multiple process of transformation and an opening up of the self to outside forces (be they animal, alien, or daemonic in character).

And this, of course, is what excites me about her ...


Notes

The version of The Bat shown above was cast in bronze in 1996; the fifth in a posthumous edition of six created under the direction of Francoise Guiter (the artist’s niece) by L. Thinot, Paris, the foundry responsible for casting Richier’s sculptures during her lifetime. It is on long term loan to the Tate (Ref. Number: L02176). 

To read part one of this post on Theodore Roethke and the unheimlich, click here. 

To read the post that anticipates or prefigures this one on Roethke and the Bat Boy, click here. 

To read the post on D. H. Lawrence's becoming-bat, click here. 

To read Roethke's poem The Bat, click here. 

Thanks to Diana Thomson for suggesting this post by pointing me in the direction of Germaine Richier.

Reflections on The Bat 1: Theodore Roethke and the Unheimlich

Germaine Richier: Bat (1948-51)

Etching and aquatint on paper (385 x 536 mm)

Several days after first reading and I'm still haunted by Roethke's magnificent poem The Bat ...

It's not the bat by day who disturbs me; the bat who is cousin to the mouse and likes to hang out (literally) in the attic of an aging house and whose fingers make a hat about his head. I'm perfectly fine with the thought of such a creature, whose heart beats so slowly we think him dead.

Indeed, I don't even fear the bat who loops in crazy figures half the night. Just so long as he keeps his distance and, more importantly, keeps his own countenance. It's only when he comes too close and reveals that something is amiss or out of place that I'm disturbed; when, as Roethke writes, it becomes apparent that even mice with wings can wear a human face.

In my mind, such an image is uncanny to the nth degree. So much so, that one is tempted to use the more ambiguous (and thus more troubling) German term, unheimlich, which Roethke, as the son of a German immigrant, might appreciate. For unheimlich means more than outside of one's normal experience and familiar frame of reference (or beyond one's ken, as our friends north of the border might say).

Roethke's human-faced bat is not just a bit creepy or queer: it is that which should have remained forever in the shadows and never been spoken of, but which has - thanks to him - come to light and to language; it is thus the un-secret (and here we recall that heimlich doesn't just mean homely, but also that which is hidden or concealed).

In a proto-Freudian sense that looks back to Schelling, the unheimlich is, we might say - and I'm going to have to consult with my friend Simon Solomon on this - the obscene intrusion of the occult into the known world in such a manner that it curdles the milk and violates the natural order of things.


Notes

To read The Bat, by Theodore Roethke, please visit the Poetry and Literature page of the US Library of Congress: click here.

To read part two of this post on French sculptress Germaine Richier and her 1946 piece La Chauve-souris, click here.

To read the post that anticipates or prefigures this one on Roethke and the Bat Boy, click here.

Germaine Richier's brilliant artwork seen here can be viewed by appointment at Tate Britain's Prints and Drawings Rooms (Ref. number P11286) .

Of Contrails and Chemtrails (with Reference to the Case of Kylie Jenner)

Kylie Jenner reflecting upon chemtrails 

I have to admit that I make very little effort to keep up with the Kardashians and their extended family network. But it's been brought to my attention that one of their number, Kylie Jenner, recently tweeted her concern about the issue of so-called chemtrails ...

"It's heartening to discover", said my correspondent, "that when not revealing her charms, this talented young model, actress, entrepreneur and media personality, is courageously attempting to expose the truth about those mysterious white lines across the sky that the authorities pretend are perfectly harmless ..."

Quite! Only not quite quite ...

Because those mysterious white lines are in fact nothing more than water vapour in the form of ice crystals and, as such, are of course entirely innocuous. In other words, chemical trails don't really exist; they are simply condensation trails (known as contrails) produced by aircraft engines burning hydrocarbons at cruise altitude, as re-imagined within the paranoid world of conspiracy theory. 

Depending on the ambient temperature and humidity, contrails may be visible for only a brief few moments, or they may persist for hours and spread to be several miles wide, coming to resemble natural cloud formations. Either way, they do not contain unknown bio-chemical agents deliberately sprayed for sinister purposes by secret government agencies.

Such claims - originating in the late 1990s - are often based on mad fantasy and shocking scientific ignorance. However, despite repeatedly being shown to be absurd, they still persist and attract followers; including, it seems, glamorous celebrities such as Miss Jenner. It's an unfortunate fact that when experts and officials deny the existence of chemtrails, believers interpret this as further evidence of a cover-up.

Lunatics, it seems, have always been prone to lifting up their eyes and looking to the heavens for signs; if not of God's greatness, then of man's inherent wickedness ...

Notes

Anyone interested in the latest research into this by a large number of atmospheric scientists might like to see an article by Christine Shearer, Mick West, Ken Caldeira and Steven J. Davis entitled 'Quantifying expert consensus against the existence of a secret, large-scale atmospheric spraying program', in Environmental Research Letters, Vol. 11, Number 8 (10 Aug 2016), IOP Publishing Ltd. Click here to read online, or here to view as a PDF.

And if anyone is interested in Kylie Jenner's tweet from 25 May 2015 on chemtrails, here it is:

Roethke and the Bat Boy (A Post on American Poetry and Popular Culture)

And when he appears upon a TV screen,

We're afraid of what our eyes have seen.

The highly-regarded American poet, Theodore Roethke, grew up surrounded by natural beauty subject to German discipline in a giant greenhouse. The perfect conditions in which a sensitive young boy's Romanticism might flourish ...

However, as Camille Paglia points out, there was always something queer about Roethke's lyricism; his "portraits of nature are often eerie or unsettling", particularly when he attempted to connect the world of the greenhouse to his own (often profoundly disturbed) inner experience.

Perhaps this explains why the last lines of his poem 'The Bat' have been haunting me for days: 

For something is amiss or out of place

When mice with wings can wear a human face.

Either that, or they caused me to reflect once more upon the terrifying case of the Bat Boy, discovered living in Hellhole Cave, West Virginia, by Dr Ron Dillon, as reported in the pages of the Weekly World News back in the summer of 1992, and now established as an iconic figure within the popular imagination ...

See: 

Camille Paglia, Break, Blow, Burn (Vintage Books, 2006), p. 146. 

Theodore Roethke, The Collected Poems, (Faber and Faber, 1968).

To read 'The Bat', please visit the Poetry and Literature page of the US Library of Congress: click here.