K runs a blog named Hospital Porters Against
the New World. He needs to share an
important information he has acquired on the
internet.
“JennyArea51Insider" thinks the world
has a right to know what's going on in secret!...
https://vimeo.com/412807987
But "Jenny" doesn't exist; K invented her. K is
trying to prove a point about something, a
forthcoming danger.
He pleads, “I’m making a
direct appeal to everybody who has the ability to
make fake videos: could you please stop!”
What he means is, we need to publish only
information we know to be true. K is in search
of the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth.
He wants to know only what we know to
be true, to find what we don’t yet know to be
true.
Everything must be rendered perfectly.
The corrupted videos
The bugs
The missing tapes
There is a rift in time
A rift between a frame of a movie, and the frame that
follows.
It is an ever-flowing world constituent of an
average of 24 worlds per second, where present
is always and nowhere.
Position and velocity of an object cannot be
measured to its full certainty simultaneously.
The more accurately you know the position, the
less accurately you know velocity and vice
versa. You are either certain of one or the other,
never both.
Imagine a car moving along a linear road. If you
want to see the exact place where the car is, you
must pause time (because it's always moving).
You pause time, you mark its place. While it is
paused (imagine it like a photo), you CAN'T
know its speed. It's a picture. If you want to find
out the speed, you must un-pause and measure
it. But if you un-pause, it's impossible to know
the exact position of the car because it's
changing.
The unbearable incommensurability creates
an itch,
a tingle in the chest
at a moment of the death of someone I’ve had
yet to cross paths with
In my world we’re all living in, but our lives are
not our own
Abipa, the Promised Planet
Sonmi~451
We’ve been told numerous times, in fact we’ve
known all along
that we are many, and we are one and the same;
that all of us are nobodies and all of us are
everything.
...and then we repeat
All of us are nobodies and all of us are
everything.
This is an invitation-
to a life, not of your own making, but as a main
character of a movie, a world constructed by
unanimous branches of producers, blinded to
each other’s makings,
A perfectly rendered montage, a world of
certainty.
S stares at her reflection in the mirror. She is
listening to the news on the radio.
“I don’t understand!”, she declares.
The news is always playing in the background.
We’re all in the kitchen now, a few days later; Sidonie is having her supper and Nicole is working on one for the adults. It smells good – one of Nicole’s fancy variations, with Irish potatoes, fresh sage and gruyere – and I feel a bit guilty about the fact that I’ve not done much of the housework at all. I walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. We’re talking about the various possibilities for a narrative arc in the new section.
‘I really don’t think there’s a need to go too far back into your personal history. It’ll feel contrived, unnecessary for your larger point,’ Nicole is saying, ‘Perhaps a tension between your academic and art-making selves?’ I shake my head. ‘But there isn’t a tension really there. That’s the whole point.’ ‘Well then make that point within the text itself,’ Nicole says, shaking the spoon in her hand. ‘A story about the mostly constructed tension between writing and making, one that is only there because people say it is'.
Sidonie comes from the next room, holding hands with Nonie. ‘What?’ she asks, shaking her head and laughing. ‘I’m sorry; it’s very hard to hear from the next room, you know, with Nonie and cooking and the TV on.’ I hadn’t even noticed that Sidonie left the television on. ‘I’ve got it,’ I say. ‘It’s a story about the stories that practice and experience enable. About how they form and re-form in their performative telling and re-telling.’
My voice is a litle wishy-washy here, but I keep going. ‘They say their forms include “research as performative, research as provocative, and research as poetic’. Nicole stops me by putting her hand up; it’s a soft gesture, but accomplishes its goal. In her driest voice, with elongated vowels, she asks, ‘And you don’t want to be categorized with them because…?'
I look up and out of the window.
_______________________
p1 Text: adapted for Solo Show from original text by Jisoo You: Part 1 Part 2
p2 Text: companion, In Production (excerpt)
This archive publishes all of the remaining open-call submissions from the launch of our project.
