I am the dark one,—the widower,—the unconsoled,
The prince of Aquitaine at his stricken tower:
My sole star is dead,—and my constellated lute
Bears the black sun of the Melancolia.
Gerard de Nerval
"Beyond its alchemical scope, the "Black Sun" metaphor fully sums up the blinding force of the despondent mood—an excruciating, lucid affect asserts the inevitability of death, which is the death of the loved one and of the self that identifies with the former (the poet is "bereft" of the "star")."
“Melancholia belongs in the celestial realm. It changes darkness into redness or into a sun that remains black, to be sure, but is nevertheless the sun, source of dazzling light. Nerval’s introspection seems to indicate that naming the sun locates him on the threshold of a crucial experience, on the divide between appearance and disappearance, abolishment and song, nonmeaning and signs.”
Kristeva, Black Sun: Depression and Melancholia
A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, or death: for, in relation to who or what is making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations.
OxO is an experiment in exorcism. An alluvium of loose ends wanting to ravel off into roots, grow again somewhere into something else maybe, an expression. Or the severed heads that haunt me. It’s a semi-annual assemblage of pieces and notes that never feel finished, that won’t take flesh or any other form…
That said, OxO posts will be formatted as such:
And when made paper will be available for sale—against better judgement and according to a strict (i.e. forced) and arbitrary schedule, regardless of any ‘presentable’ material available.
BEWARE OF A HOLY WHORE… Plinth No. 2 is all-up-on us.
Sarah Fox, Johannes Göransson, Aimee Parkison
Laura Ellen Joyce, Eugene Thacker, Jamalieh Haley,
Peter O’Leary, Brad D Baumgartner, and David Peak
"The rule is quite simple…" you said, almost lovingly, to me. "Embracing nothing outside you produces an inner tranquility, just as embracing nothing inside you produces an outer quietude."
—from Songs from the Black Moon
A body of water at its surface / plumbless and always under the sky, as something moves below / a slow wave but no skin, as the wind blows over / puckers any trace, but what does this describe / you or me
Siyah mashq (lit. ‘black practice’ in Persian) originally referred to calligraphic practice sheets where words and letters were written facing in several directions and over each other, in order to conserve paper. However, when calligraphers realized how stunning some of these pieces were, siyah mashq evolved into a style of its own, where words and letters were repeated, regardless of meaning, in rhythmical compositions.
Some Deaths Take Forever, Jamian Juliano-Villani
The gap between where the smoke ends and the lit candle begins scares the hell out of me, or punishes me with that kind of wonder where I can’t look away… The triptych was originally installed as a wrap-around covering three walls of a booth so I suppose that gap was a corner, not an end maybe but an asymptotical merging of fates, a “death that will not finalize until forever comes to an end.”