My new book Cataclysmal is due for release in 2017, no specific dates at this point in time. The above image is not the front cover, rather a promo card of the new book. The actually book cover and synopsis will be revealed closer to the release date for Cataclysmal.
Versace being the powerhouse that it is, showcases it’s Pre-Fall 2016 collection prior to the January 2017 fashion weeks. A stunning collection, laser cut clothing, with machinery precision. What could be considered a clean looking modernist style is clearly accentuated via technological processes. Daunting and probably overwhelming for a younger designer to grapple with, but with the mega finances and established branding this is the reality. Satin and silk overlays, furs, immaculate cotton weaves and pleats. Modernist /mid-century inspired pattern work. Black as the base with deep purples, red, orange and grays. A broad collection and produced (mass) as an high end range that would be readily available. Most likely aimed at Russian and Chinese/Hong Kong markets.
(Image: Adrian Glass (2015), please credit if used as a public domain image.)
This is a fictitious interview with an architect which I created. He doesn’t exist. The excerpt is from my 2013 book. “When Time ends, The Seasons begin” Chapter 3 Professor Daimon.
An image appears of a man in his late forties being interviewed as he walks through the streets of Paris.
“You see, the building is man, his structure, his ideals, his life…his future. But the thing is, this…” Pointing to a Art Norveau style arch that sits over the entrance of a small Paris cafe. “…it outlives man. Because it is supposed too. You design to create an impression of life that transcends away from the very existence of life. That at the same time absorbs and sustains life. The question, for the designer, architect is; Are we creating life? Is a building alive?” He then points to the jade like Art Nouveau ceramic work around the early nineteen hundred’s arch. “…This is alive, organic. Beautiful. Do you see?”
The footage then shows shots of vast skyscrapers built in the middle east, China. Next we see Schlémil sitting at a table in front of him are small blocks of wood in various shapes, in which he is aligning in different forms.
A voice of the interview is heard in the background. “What do you think of modern architecture? The designs of today?”
“Horrible, they are a travesty…We are living in a time of illusions, you cannot completely blame governments, or institutions, religion…Or whatever. We are partly to blame, I say that generally. We aspire for an equality of wealth in a system of exploitation. You are then sold a cheap substitute for your gullibility. Right now, the buildings that are created, it is like…Potemkin Villages, a facade, they are lifeless, dead…Nothing. That is the creations of today. That is the architects of today, they built an already doomed structure which is, like I said, that is dead, it is not alive.”
“I read a piece you wrote for an art magazine a little while back, you mentioned that architecture should build structure in time for a trans-humanism existence…This is tied into your theory of dead and alive buildings.”
“Yes. Do we build a disaster waiting to happen? A dead realm, or do we build, now, for the post-world, a post-humanistic existence? We must transcend into our structures, as they find form, the architecture then transcends into us…It is the need of becoming one with our creations. Only then, within the material world, we can exist beyond the material world. Humanity is in desperate need of this, you see this now, with the wars, our failed concepts of stability, the corruption on human strength an values via superstitious beliefs…” The footage then shows a closeup of Schlémil as he looks into the camera. “…Maybe god did throw the dice one too many times…” He begins to laugh
(All rights are held by Adrian Glass 2013)
“DIE in the Past
Live in the Future.
THE velocity of velocities arrives in starting.
IN pressing the material to derive its essence, matter becomes deformed.
AND form hurtling against itself is thrown beyond the synopsis of vision.
THE straight line and the circle are the parents of design, form the basis of art; there is no limit to their coherent variability.
LOVE the hideous in order to find the sublime core of it.
OPEN your arms to the dilapidated; rehabilitate them.
YOU prefer to observe the past on which your eyes are already opened.
BUT the Future is only dark from outside.
Leap into it—and it EXPLODES with Light.
FORGET that you live in houses, that you may live in yourself—
FOR the smallest people live in the greatest houses.
BUT the smallest person, potentially, is as great as the Universe.
WHAT can you know of expansion, who limit yourselves to compromise?
HITHERTO the great man has achieved greatness by keeping the people small.
BUT in the Future, by inspiring the people to expand to their fullest capacity, the great man proportionately must be tremendous—a God.
LOVE of others is the appreciation of oneself.
MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.
THE Future is limitless—the past a trail of insidious reactions.
LIFE is only limited by our prejudices. Destroy them, and you cease to be at the mercy of yourself.
TIME is the dispersion of intensiveness.
THE Futurist can live a thousand years in one poem.
HE can compress every aesthetic principle in one line.
THE mind is a magician bound by assimilations; let him loose and the smallest idea conceived in freedom will suffice to negate the wisdom of all forefathers.
LOOKING on the past you arrive at “Yes,” but before you can act upon it you have already arrived at “No.”
THE Futurist must leap from affirmative to affirmative, ignoring intermittent negations—must spring from stepping-stone to stone of creative exploration; without slipping back into the turbid stream of accepted facts.
THERE are no excrescences on the absolute, to which man may pin his faith.
TODAY is the crisis in consciousness.
CONSCIOUSNESS cannot spontaneously accept or reject new forms, as offered by creative genius; it is the new form, for however great a period of time it may remain a mere irritant—that molds consciousness to the necessary amplitude for holding it.
CONSCIOUSNESS has no climax.
LET the Universe flow into your consciousness, there is no limit to its capacity, nothing that it shall not re-create.
UNSCREW your capability of absorption and grasp the elements of Life—Whole.
MISERY is in the disintegration of Joy;
Intellect, of Intuition;
Acceptance, of Inspiration.
CEASE to build up your personality with the ejections of irrelevant minds.
NOT to be a cipher in your ambient,
But to color your ambient with your preferences.
NOT to accept experience at its face value.
BUT to readjust activity to the peculiarity of your own will.
THESE are the primary tentatives towards independence.
MAN is a slave only to his own mental lethargy.
YOU cannot restrict the mind’s capacity.
THEREFORE you stand not only in abject servitude to your perceptive consciousness—
BUT also to the mechanical re-actions of the subconsciousness, that rubbish heap of race-tradition—
AND believing yourself to be free—your least conception is colored by the pigment of retrograde superstitions.
HERE are the fallow-lands of mental spatiality that Futurism will clear—
MAKING place for whatever you are brave enough, beautiful enough to draw out of the realized self.
TO your blushing we shout the obscenities, we scream the blasphemies, that you, being weak, whisper alone in the dark.
THEY are empty except of your shame.
AND so these sounds shall dissolve back to their innate senselessness.
THUS shall evolve the language of the Future.
THROUGH derision of Humanity as it appears—
TO arrive at respect for man as he shall be…”
Clip from James Cameron’s ‘Terminator ‘(1984). The tracking shots are superb.
- Humanity works together to fight against a common threat. Despite Cameron’s assertion it will be us versus machines, or don’t think this will occur. More so, metaphorically, the fight will be against disease, climate change and theocratic lunacy.
- I don’t believe in utopian idealism, most certainly society will always be vexed – and there will never be complete equality. Of late, without going to deep into the idiocy, the horrendous collapse of analytical structure, the nonsensical and fear ridden disputes between the left and right of the political spectrum all the while the timeline of humanity is beginning to run short. Not just from natural events, but unnatural such as a global nuclear war. As we are ALL living in a new cold war, but denial is the order and distraction is the play. Until the 11th hour or as the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists have it; three minutes to midnight. Survival trumps (no pun) everything, collaboration, with petty disputes put aside to see the light of day. Does this paradoxically fall into an utopian hope or more so a dystopian survival instinct? I choose the latter. *The necessity for an intelligent organism to rise through the rubble, learn from it’s mistakes, quickly, and create foundations for the next generation.
*Reminds me of this quote re: adaption. Miyamoto Musashi
“There is timing in the whole life of the warrior, in his thriving and declining, in his harmony and discord. Similarly, there is timing in the Way of the merchant, in the rise and fall of capital. All things entail rising and falling timing. You must be able to discern this…”
(Image from the public domain.)
Excerpt from William Faulkner’s speech: Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm, December 10, 1950
May it inspire.
“…Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.
He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed – love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.
I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.”