Prisoners of Consciousness

Clive Wearing's case is perhaps the most comprehensive one of amnesia to date. I've been fascinated by the concept of having zero memory ever since I heard about Clive during a Psych 230 (Brain, Learning and Memory, taught that year by John Jonides--who lectured on this particular module--, Steve Maren, and Joshua Berke) lecture in my first semester of college. People in general are obsessed with memories--making them, retrieving them, making them up, making something of them, the last one perhaps most crucial to our functioning. Anyhow, I recently found out somebody had done a documentary called "Prisoner of Consciousness" on him. My first urge was to scrunch up my eyebrows and ask, is he really the prisoner, or are we, those with perfectly well-operating and maybe even hyperactive memory systems, more so imprisoned than he is? Doesn't his inability to remember life free him from the responsibility of "making something of it?" And then, is he a prisoner only because he has to continue living in the world of people? And then this led me to remember (yes) a story a friend had recalled (there, again) to me about his brief scuffle with amnesia: it involved a skiing accident, and emerging from complete unconsciousness (note that this does not mean cessation of all brain ino activity; just that we are not aware of this brain activity, and so cannot judge, feel, shape it, as we would in waking or even a dream) into a state of complete placidity (and amnesia)--a transcendental state of wisdom, perhaps, in which one is aware that one knows nothing (Plato's definition of wisdom), and for once understands that and why there is no need to change from the present state.

So all this talk about prisoners and memories is wonderfully (and complexly, confusingly) relevant to the paper I am currently writing (and is due in 24 hours!!) on WANTS. Now Want is another lynchpin of my particular quest for restful consciousness (not wise, in the least, I am). Want is a lack and a drive; it marks the relationship between an internal state and an external interaction; we want something, so we strive to get it, or else we hold that want in, roasting ourselves with the deliciousness ( in lack there is promise; in fulfillment, there is another want waiting, another rung of Plato's ladder to ascend) to the point where we have collected enough char to create ART.

The prompt, broken down to its essentials:
What motivates desire?
What are the consequences of desire?
How does desire create conflict between individual and larger systems? Between a person and people?
How does desire create a story?

My simple response to that is, desire creates life--or "felt life," as Richard Bausch put it (and I take to mean life beyond biological maintenance of survival). Without desire, there is no movement; without movement, we are either mentally vegetative/dead or we have obtained that transcendental wisdom (I use this term because I don't know how else to describe it; it may not be wisdom at all, or even transcendental, but I want to point out the existence of a super-state that somehow manages to integrate everything, and by doing such, eliminates all need for want--is there a NEED for want?) The last question in the parentheses leads back into the prisoner concept, as well the concept I prodded a bit in 240: Art as Excess. Is Want a consequence of consciousness? If so, are we all Prisoners of Consciousness? Prisoners of our own wants, as the stories I've chosen to analyze seem to illustrate? If wants are necessary for the maintenance of movement/Life, then one want must lead to another, and one quickly finds himself an atom splitting and splitting a nuclear fission reaction. But how about if we choose a want in the beginning that goes straight to the source--not sex, drugs, love, but Art--a want (the want is the drive behind artistic creation) that is fundamentally unfulfillable, perhaps even insatiable in its demand for human soul and other such resources. So are artists the only ones able to escape the prison of consciousness? Or are they the ones who accept the prison, and by acceptance, redefine it ("Only when we accept our limits can we go beyond them." - Albert Einstein)? Or is art merely a distraction too, leading to unnecessary pain, the raw need of the artist's want making him intolerant to the logistics of life itself? Or am I spinning myself in circles here because I haven't defined what a true artist is yet? Here's Paul, who thinks himself an artist; here's Sonny, who really is an artist. Art is not the pursuit of some ideal world; art is brutal acceptance and the attempt to go beyond, the attempt to take what is to what can be; the process of taking WANT to IS.
And what about memory? What about Clive? Having no consciousness, but undoubtedly conscious of the self, he wrote constantly, he was creating himself constantly. Which leads me to ask, do our wants create our selves, or do our selves create our wants? He was amnesic, he wanted to write, he created himself, if only for a moment. Seems cyclic.

The problem I have with academic papers is committing myself to one idea and ONE train of thought/draw out one proof long enough to slap down five or so pages. I didn't have such a huge problem before, but 240 seems to have opened this door in the floor, and now I'm Alice wandering around in Some Land past the looking glass, Peter Pan refusing to give up play for serious, methodical analysis. It's hard to bridge imagination and analysis; maybe this is what the artist does best, and maybe this is what transcends, bringing the self to others through art.


--EDIT--
More:

I think I am going to analyze these stories:
Sonny's Blues
A Good Man is Hard to Find
The Third and Final Continent
and maybe also:
Paul's Case
A Temporary Matter

maybe my framework is wrong...

awesome.

EVENT ANNOUNCEMENT

U-M artists-designers reveal link between research, self-expression

Click image to watch video

ANN ARBOR, Mich.—In a far-ranging exhibit of their latest creative work, University of Michigan faculty members in the School of Art & Design demonstrate a mastery of technique, and an engaging curiosity in working with new and emerging media while offering a glimpse into the aesthetic issues that shape their art.

Works of 30 artists are featured in this year's 4th Annual Faculty Exhibition. The exhibit reflects a range of eclectic work by artists at various stages of the creative process, from renderings of concepts to finished pieces of art.

An assemblage of paintings, prints, photography, video, jewelry, kinetic work and installation, the exhibit runs through Feb. 22 at two of the School's galleries, the Slusser Gallery on Bonisteel Boulevard and Work • Ann Arbor on S. State Street.

"This exhibit is a showcase as well as a snapshot of our current work," said Bryan Rogers, dean of the School of Art & Design. "Each faculty member is actively engaged with issues pertaining to her/his chosen media, as well as the process of continually refining her/his art. This is a glimpse into our research as artists-designers."

For many, the notion of "research" is an academic activity that is quantifiable, and based on the scientific method of critical observation, hypothesizing, testing, and ultimately, theorizing. In contrast to that conventional definition of research, the U-M artists-designers' work reflects their dynamic probative inquiries into the realm of emotion and intellect. The work also reveals creative practitioners testing the limits of their media.

"All of the artists-designers were brought together under the mission of providing a broad-based education to students," said Jim Cogswell, U-M professor of art. "The work doesn't necessarily represent a single theme. In fact, it stretches the viewer to take in a diverse range of experiences."

Exhibition offers artists-designers an opportunity to engage with audiences. The aim is to spark a connection.

"There's an expectation when you put your work out that it will stir a dialogue about where you're at with your work," said Tirtza Even, A&D assistant professor. "The hope is that the conversation goes beyond the mundane and into places that we care about."

The School of Art & Design 4th Annual Faculty Exhibition is at the Slusser Gallery, 2000 Bonisteel Blvd., Ann Arbor. Hours: 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday.

The exhibit also fills Work Gallery, 306 S. State St., downtown Ann Arbor. Hours: noon-7 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday; noon-8 p.m. Friday and Saturday; noon-5 p.m. Sunday; closed Monday.

http://www.ns.umich.edu/htdocs/releases/story.php?id=6328

Truisms

Discovered Conceptual artist Jenny Holzer today (had she been mentioned in class?):

Experience
(Click around; she has made every visitor a creator,
every reader an author)

Read

Forking Out

Maybe it's just this 24-hour melancholia speaking, but I miss this class like a kid sent to bed before dinner misses his mashed potatoes. I think I'm holding to something that has begun to (fervently) take root in my mind, yet being forced to (and, I suppose, wanting to) move on; but I don't want to leave that root as a root, I want it to blossom into a huge tree, and I want to be that tree. But I feel a little lost in "forking out" on my own, trying to preserve and develop that perspective, that system of thought--that cognitive freshness and wonder and free-wheeling power without the guidance of this class. I feel like this is one of those classes that I could keep taking over and over and never feel a hint of stagnation. I feel that this class was one crucial pivot point/fulcrum for my development as a whole thinker, artist, student of life, if you will. I feel that this class gave me permission to be myself, in a way, and indulge patterns of thought I had once, and perhaps unknowingly, crushed. And now I feel a little lost without consistent "system rechargers."
Maybe the most important thing I learned (and saw in action) last semester, was to maintain as high a level of receptivity and inquisitiveness as I could productively sustain. This new English course I'm taking right now is great too, but much more "traditional" (and limiting? but limits aren't so bad--they let you see what's outside; limits are tethers and tethers are necessary for ascension or movement in general; as Albert Einstein remarked, "Once one knows his limits, he can go beyond it."). I guess my goal is to use this current class (and indeed all subsequent encounters in my life) as fodder for that [parasitic] seed.
I'm searching for more encounters with illumination, and this class has given me one more very powerful flashlight.

I apologize for the self-therapeutic nature of this entry. But just writing it makes my head a little clearer. I need to get formed words out before new ones can take their place. Consider this an examination of one square inch on the surface of my mind.

another instance of the fork

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fork_(filesystem)

be saying more about this after i get some sleep!

En-closure: Consequences of Consciousness?

As we are asked to wrap-up a presentation of the consequences of this class on our thoughts, I am discovering that it is quite impossible to enclose everything, as even one idea absorbed from the class has taken on a life of its own and proliferated like mad throughout my system (really, an idea is a like a parasite! :)).

But I have come back often to the idea of art as luxury in my reflections. Of all the organisms on this planet, humans are the only ones who waste--irreparably so because this waste is produced in excess, and so cannot escape its enclosure as waste (in nature, decomposition would return the elements of waste to a form better capable of interaction). Waste, however, is a byproduct of the excess/luxury/opulence on which humans thrive. Professor Moss brought up an interesting point in a blog post--that the remnants of the Big Bang are essentially just waste.


If one takes this perspective, then humanity currently resides in one big wasteland--a vision quite fitting to what I'm about to discuss.

Of all the organisms on the planet, humans are also the only ones who make art. Yes, art occurs in nature too without intention, but nature doesn't dwell on it...nature uses it for practical purposes of survival. To illustrate:



The intricacy of design on the butterfly and flower might merely be a genetic accident. Beauty here is a tool for physical survival--no more, no less ostentatious. The lithe movements of the cheetah might be described as dance by a human observer, but is merely (here's that word again) a byproduct of a physical adaptation, an optimization for a player in the game of surviving. (The fact that we can view life as a game is both a testament to our consciousness and the room that this consciousness creates for indulgence in such luxurious views.)

Humans hoard art--look at all the fine art museums, private collections, architectural flamboyance that will sacrifice function for aesthetic form, "haute couture." Compare the excessiveness, in style, color, function, most of all, to the natural designs above. These clothes and buildings actually make it harder for people to physically function. But they serve as viewing pleasure, aesthetic stimulation, a drug that humans need as much as food and water; indeed, to feel that they are alive, to strip down and roll in evidence of excess, evidence of waste--evidence of life.



Is this all a product of vanity, yet at the same time, a by-product of consciousness--the awareness that we are Alive, that we have created this system call Time that seems to be running away with our Lives? Because we are aware of such phenomena (and while our more scientifically primitive cousins doggedly go about their business of survival, unquestioning, unwondering, and changing only per chance of mutation), we must devise these systems, indeed, enclosures in order to make sense, in order to process the stimuli that evoke something more than flat images, sounds, smells, textures alone. This is because while we waste, we cannot stand the sight of, the smell of, the idea of waste and consequent decay (landfills are probably the most avoided places on earth); we must not waste the stimuli that come to us, nor the cognitive faculties granted to our species; time is of the essence, and every opportunity must be taken--a consequence of the consciousness of mortality, of inevitable insignificance--to process, to preserve; to slow time down, we escape into the timeless dimension provided by the junction of consciousness with unconsciousness. An example of this junction (a wormhole?) occurs in lucid dreaming. Here's how to do it!


Music, paintings, dance, poems, POAMs; art is not why, but how we live. Art is the locomotive, the machine, the engine that encloses us are we bring ourselves back into reality. It might be one way we transport a piece of the unconscious into conscious life. In this way, art is also a bridge, an integrative tool. Science studies the evidence of this process of art. Do we try to enclose our lives into the poams that we make? Make something permanent of a thought, a fear?

These systems we devise stabilize us, and help us deal with the pain of ephemerality and the constant apprehension that follows. We lug around heavy thought orbits in the intricate systems we build: religions, symphonies, novels, even the scientific method. Though science might study the process of art, it is art itself (is this a consequence of studying art, to become art yourself?). They (and almost any human device) share the common goal of survival. It is just that human survival entails so much of this excessive system devising, the excessive search for Closure because humans recognize, but cannot accept the fact that closure is quite impossible.

Art is a luxury, and luxury is necessary to human subsistence. We are hedonists--creatures of pleasure and comfort, always looking for ways to minimize the greater pain (sometimes we'll even use pain--excessively--to diminish pain). What is the goal in most peoples' lives? To find happiness or contentment, probably. But is that possible with the symptoms of our consciousness already drawing consequences as heavy as art and science? Locusts, lions, bees live to deliver genes. They too know, somewhere up the ladders of their DNA, that their form is not meant to persist, yet the only behavioral sign that belies this fact is the sometimes frantic mating an animal near its time will engage in:


Humans need to be enclosed in order to survive:






The womb, the houses we build, the relationships we forge (expanding our skin through contact with others), and the skull that encloses our brain--the embodiment of our physical selves and those other impalpable selves--are all necessary forms of organization, protection, separation. Symphonies, paintings, and poems serve a similar function, allowing humans not only to survive but to live; for to survive is to live, for a person--and therein lies the difference between humans and animals: for an animal, surviving pertains to the physical; for people, to survive is to take care of the both physical and of the mental/spiritual. The desire to live catalyzes the desire to indulge, to engage systems of excess.

I have brought in many concepts that have been revolving like horses around a merry-go-around for days in my mind. This presentation is far from clear (quite, rare indeed, though I'm certain I burnt something in the process...what is that smell? it smells like...waste!), and the exact relationship between all of these points of light is something that will evolve with the mind that encloses them; a process of excess, I'm sure. I feel like I keep bringing in ideas, creating new interactions without following other interactions all the way down. But is there an all-the-way-down? Perhaps, at least, I owe to the interaction, the spark, to rub the substances more against each, warming myself in the combustion of idea. Ideally, I would love to explore this idea through multiple media--film, audio, written poems, website-building; each poam through each medium contributes to a clearer picture. (the most waste i make, the more enlightened I am?!) Here, though, I and the ideas I express are confined, yet defined by the borders of the written word, still images, and short motion picture clips. Without confinement, there can be no definition, without definition, limited interaction. The shape of the fork must become clear before its tines can be admired, utilized, perhaps even broken.

In this post, and in this blog as a whole, I have (attempted to) explore the different forms a poam can take on, as well as the internal structure of a poam once it has taken on a particular form. The concept of the Limited Fork is exciting and stimulating, as the best ideas always are. The thought system is the product of an act of making itself, evidence of a creator's need to indulge in excess. I've looked through a certain window, and can only wonder now from which window I'll exit or enter again.

To close, for now, a representation--a mapping, a visual enclosure--of my brain on art, my brain fueling creation, in particular, self-creation: I create my brain--



Thank you, for this induction into the Limited Fork locomotive.

Time as a Runaway System!

Interesting article from the Telegraph online:

Time is running out - literally, says scientist

By Tom Chivers

Last Updated: 6:01am GMT 18/12/2007

It's the end of the world - but not as we know it.

A Spanish scientist suggests that the universe's end will come not with a bang but standstill - that time is literally running out and will, one day, stop altogether. Hubble telescope photo of a supernova. Scientists use these to study distant galaxies Professor Jose Senovilla, of the University of the Basque Country, Bilbao, has put forward the theory as a rival to the idea of "dark energy" - the strange antigravitational force that is posited to explain a cosmic phenomenon that has baffled scientists. It was noticed ten years ago that distant stars - the ones on the very fringes of the universe - seemed to be moving faster than those nearer to the centre, suggesting that they were accelerating as they shot through space. Dark energy was suggested as a possible means of powering that acceleration. The problem is that no-one has any idea what it is or where it comes from. Professor Senovilla's theory does away altogether with dark energy. Instead, he says, the appearance of acceleration is caused by time itself gradually slowing down, like a clock that needs winding. While the change would be infinitesimally slow from an ordinary human perspective, in the grander scales of cosmology - in which scientists study ancient light from suns billions of years dead - it could be easily measured. Astronomers are able to decipher the expansion speed of the universe using the so-called "red shift" technique. Light from stars that are moving towards the earth is of higher frequency than that from the same sort of stars moving away. The principle is the same as that of an ambulance siren which gets higher as it comes towards the listener but lower as it moves away. Similarly, a star moving away appears redder in colour. Scientists look for exploding stars, or supernovae, of certain types that provide a benchmark to work against. However, the accuracy of these measurements depend on time remaining constant throughout the universe, says Prof Senovilla. "Our calculations show that we would think that the expansion of the universe is accelerating," said Senovilla. He takes the basis for his idea from the superstring theory, which suggests that dimensions of time and space can move around and change places. His suggestion is that our solitary time dimension is slowly becoming a new space dimension. In some number of billions of years, time would cease to be time altogether - and everything will stop. "Then everything will be frozen, like a snapshot of one instant, forever," Prof Senovilla told New Scientist magazine. "Our planet will be long gone by then." While the theory is outlandish, it is not without support. Prof Gary Gibbons, a cosmologist at Cambridge University, believes the idea has merit. "We believe that time emerged during the Big Bang, and if time can emerge, it can also disappear - that's just the reverse effect," he said.

Quite a curveball perspective. So what happens after "time" stops? It makes me think that time is activity-dependent. Without change, there exists no need for markers of progress, which is what time essentially serves as. Or is there a bigger time outside of this time? A piece of art then, a living "photograph" of sorts (in that it interacts with a subject in a time frame different from that which it was born), can no longer transcend time in this eternal, infinite state of stagnancy. It seems like such a waste of material...who's going to look at this cosmic snapshot? The system of time and all of the subsystems that humans devise, all of which depend on time as an enclosure, as a tether (in order to freeze, in order to examine later; as proof of prior existence), would...vanish? This takes the idea that time exists only to those who can understand it outside of that person; the idea/system is no longer only in the control of its maker (which, strangely, exists as a subsystem within a system born out of itself), but takes on a life of its own, and perhaps, even comes back to control the destiny of that very maker.