F 0.2 — Who is a writer

I was listening to Bill Evans and reading a James Baldwin interview the day I realized I was a writer. I had to stop my train of thought and get out of bed at 8:26 am, 8°C in the strange winter of Curitiba.

How can I show where I am right now, how can I show who I am right now if it wasn't for this words that come out of me.

I'm still not sure about what I want to say but I feel the desire to write.

I see my drafts and everything I want to say. Until today, I was writing trying to say something to someone. The abstract reader I have in mind when I'm re-writing and editing.

From this sentence on, I'm writing for myself. As I always do.

What is it that I want to say? What is the thing that makes me go out of bed and start typing in the mornings?

Is the desire, burning inside of things that I want to say. After staying quiet for so long, waiting for permission to speak (not literally, but almost).

I've said this before: I used to stay quiet and pretend I was dumb in order to socialize and I accepted that as my life.

Re-learning how to speak and have my own voice, understanding that I don't need permission and I just need to say the things out loud. With confidence. My voice matters, what I have to say matters.

I still feel the fire building inside me, in my belly, telling me to keep going. There is something to explore, something here that wants to come out.

Learning how to hear what my body is saying have been so beautiful and rewarding. I started to recognize when something is painful because it makes my belly shake, hurts. Then something wants to come out and is a fire, a desire, a burning orange flame that makes me move and create. Then is the tension, that is almost always with me and sits between my shoulders and my neck, in the middle of my back and is only released with dancing or meditation. Or sex, but that is something I'm not going to discuss right now.

I don't know what it means to be a writer. I don't want to put names for myself than then I have to live up to.

Do I have to write a novel to be a writer? Publish? Be recognized as one in order to become one? By whom?

Is annoying to think about it and I feel something between my ribcage and my chest.

Fear is keeping me from writing more and I'm not sure if I have to push through or not. This is in general, for right now and for the rest of the drafts I have here.

They are going to see the light, for sure. Just no idea when.
(What is it about time that interests me so much?)

And this is not about making commitments, I don't have to commit to write, I do it because of the desire inside me.

Accepting that I'm a writer means I'm going to read more, think more, publish more and write with a different sense of determination.

--

A part of life is sitting in the discomfort of your own thoughts. Maybe writing is my way to let go of that discomfort by experiencing it deeply and trying to describe what it feels like. Hoping that is going to go away as soon as I describe it correctly.

Someone told me a few days ago that I was good at describing and explaining what was going on. I can only say that it is a conversation and it has two ways. I can only describe things exactly to someone willing to listen and to the people I think are going to understand me.

In a way, I only write for the people that want to read me and are willing to understand what I'm saying. Some sort of mystic impulse that drives people close or apart. I'm sure the right reader is reading this right now, but while I'm writing I am the right reader now.

In a different moment, someone is going to read this and is not going to be 9am of a sunday at 8°C, you're not going to be without glasses squinting over a screen, trying to understand what is this about. It is not a cold morning, you're not feeling alone and sad while listening Lonely Woman by Ornette Coleman. Is another reality that you're living in, but the words are the same. The words I'm typing now.

I realized that I'm a writer after reading a James Baldwin interview, at 8:26am, 8°C in a sunday.

And I accept this self-imposed label, in a solemn way, but I've always been a writer.


27.04.21

No one becomes a writer by accident, I have been writing my whole life.

F 0.1 — Why is everything about anything

Tired of pretending that life is a game for points I guess I should let myself just be today, stop everything and rest into the conviction of a new day tomorrow.

"Every human problem must be considered from the standpoint of time." F.F.

Why I wish to have eternal motivation and happiness and feel amazing everyday instead of just be, breathe and stay in the flow and ebb of whatever every day brings.
Why must everything should be about anything. Words on a blog, language, matter, energy, whatever.
This is not about anything, this is about the thing I have inside me, the desire to create. The burning, that thing, they call it passion, I call it my blessing, my vision, my inner fire.

Classified and numbered because I believe this will be read one day, someone will spend time writing about my writing and understanding why someone took the time to catalog and create * so * many * things *
Don't let me be wrong, I will be read.

A 0.1 — Intentional experimentation

Intentional experimentation of digital things that informs my theory.

--

I will experiment with digital things for the next seven years. In the form of creation, learning, reading, collaboration and actual working with clients and friends.
Even with a long term vision, I can't commit to explore everything.

My method will be to slowly approach the spaces that I find the most interesting, related to the concepts that are relevant according to my knowledge of philosophy and art theory.

I will then document the process, the outcomes and the insights. Writing about why that is interesting from the point of view of philosophical concepts.

I want my theory to come from a deep understanding of how digital things work and I want my experimentation to be informed by the ideas that I explore. It will be a cycle, that reflects itself into my work, my theory and my creative practice.

Structured research 0.1 — Imaginación, contracción y hábito en Deleuze

La repetición solamente puede ser entendida mediante la diferencia.
Esta es la paradoja de la repetición, que busca resolverse al
entender el cambio. El cambio entre casos repetitivos ocurre en el
espíritu que contempla, mediante la imaginación definida como poder
de contracción.

En el segundo párrafo del capítulo dos de Diferencia y Repetición (en
adelante DR), Deleuze explica que los casos separados y semejantes se
funden en una imaginación que contrae y actúa como placa sensible.
La imaginación tiene un papel doble: primero contrae casos y
elementos; después, los funde internamente en el espíritu.

Deleuze enfatiza que la contracción no es una reflexión y que la
imaginación no actúa como memoria o como operación del
entendimiento. La memoria y el entendimiento son síntesis activas,
que se superponen y se apoyan sobre la síntesis pasiva de la
imaginación. Para efectos prácticos, en este trabajo me enfocaré
en los momentos de la contracción como imaginación y como hábito
dentro de la síntesis pasiva.

La imaginación como contracción, en principio, forma una síntesis del
tiempo, que contrae los instantes sucesivos independientes para
constituir el presente viviente. Sobre este presente, se despliega el
tiempo, al cual pertenecen el pasado y el futuro.

Importante notar que éstos no son momentos distintos, sino dimensiones del
mismo presente contraído. Al desplegarse, revela un doble carácter:
va del pasado al futuro; de lo particular a lo general. En el pasado
"en la medida en que los instantes precedentes son retenidos en
la contracción" (p. 120, DR) y en "el futuro, porque la
espera es anticipación en esta misma contracción" (p. 120,
DR).

La contracción, es el punto en común, intermedio, desde los instantes
particulares contraídos, hacia la generalidad desarrollada en la
espera. Esta es la síntesis pasiva, esencialmente constituyente, que
se hace en el espíritu que contempla. La imaginación entonces es
el primer momento de la contracción, que opera sobre los instantes
particulares.

En un segundo momento encontramos que "el hábito es, en su
esencia, contracción" (p. 124, DR). Podemos entender la
contracción en el hábito de dos maneras: en un nivel, la
contracción designa un elemento activo en oposición a la
distención. En otro nivel, designa la fusión de instantes sucesivos
en la alma contemplativa, es decir, como síntesis pasiva. El hábito
como contracción es "la fusión de esta repetición en el
espíritu que contempla" (p. 124, DR).

En este sentido, la imaginación es el inicio del movimiento de
contracción y el hábito es la continuación. Los instantes
separados son contraídos y retenidos a través de la imaginación,
en el pasado, y se funden en el espíritu mediante el hábito.

Inicialmente, "el hábito sonsaca a la repetición algo nuevo: la
diferencia" (p. 124, DR) posteriormente se establece que ese
mismo es el papel de la imaginación "sonsacar a la repetición
algo nuevo, sonsacarle la diferencia" (p. 127, DR). Lo que
aparecía como una instancia única, es en realidad una instancia
doble.

La imaginación tiene el papel de hacer habitar la repetición en la
diferencia desde dos puntos de vista que confluyen haciendo de ella
un centro cuya función es duplicar. El primer punto de vista,
entendida como un espacio. En longitud, la diferencia habita la
repetición cuando pasa de un orden a otro en la repetición
instantánea a la síntesis pasiva. En profundidad, cuando la
diferencia pasa de un orden de repetición a otro, en las
síntesis pasivas. El segundo punto de vista, entendida como "la
repetición material y desnuda, la repetición dicha de lo mismo, es
la envoltura exterior, como una piel que se deshace, para un núcleo
de diferencia y de las repeticiones internas más complicadas"
(p. 128, DR)

En estas dos metáforas, relativas a un espacio, se resume el papel de
la imaginación dentro de las síntesis pasiva. Dos órdenes de
diferencia: La interna, en longitud y profundidad; la externa, en
envoltura y centro. Hacer pasar de un orden de diferencia a otro; he
ahí el movimiento doble de lo imaginario.

B 0.1 — Articulate intentions

My interest in art manifestos began almost ten years ago, after I got interested in Dadá. Theirs must have been the first one I read; striking, clear, against everything. "Dadá means nothing", Tzara writes, "A work of art should not be beauty in itself, for beauty is dead;". He shows an understanding and a disdain of art, central to Dadaism anti-art character.

Forgot about the existence of Manifestos until I found and saw Manifesto. A movie, a documentary, a collage of the most famous art manifestos. From there the concept have been in my mind, lurking and coming together now into this unstructured research that I'm planting now and I will be nurturing for the upcoming days, months and/or years.

Art manifestos teach us how to articulate in a few, concise bullet points what our intentions are and why.

"A manifesto is a communication made to the whole world, whose only pretension is to the discovery of an instant cure for political, astronomical, artistic, parliamentary, agronomical and literary syphilis. It may be pleasant, and good-natured, it's always right, it's strong, vigorous and logical. Apropos of logic, I consider myself very likeable." — Tristan Tzara

A0 — Active creativity

How can we cultivate our projects and ideas and make them flourish instead of getting discouraged because what you're doing is unconventional or too far away from reality?

Active Creativity: do whatever you want to do, with consistency.

Remove artificial constraints.

Permissionless creation.

What is unstructured research

Notes about the concepts I find interesting.

An exercise to pause, reflect and integrate the things I'm reading and learning about. In no particular order; without a visible structure.

"Nobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow... The kick of creation is the act of creating, not anything that happens afterward. I would tell all of you watching this screen: Before you go to bed, write a four line poem. Make it as good as you can. Don't show it to anybody. Put it where nobody will find it. And you will discover that you have your reward."

— Kurt Vonnegut

Three things to enjoy

Sept 20

I decided to pause this series of recommendations. This was good as a proof to myself that I can be consistent and stick to something for a while. It was also a good way to explore new things and start to get more confident at sharing.

I'm going to keep sharing, but I'm shifting to creation instead of recollection.

Sept 6

  1. This review of Ted Chiang's Exhalation
  2. This cool thing, just open the link and drag your mouse.
  3. An online puzzle! I made this one based on an image by Studio Feixen

Aug 30

  1. Baby Snake, by Ramiz Rovshan a poet from Azerbaijan
  2. This interview of Sun Ra, Helsinki 1978. (Video 9:06 min)
  3. These diagrams from Stan Allen

Aug 23

  1. An interview of James Baldwin
  2. An Isolation Odyssey, by Lydia Cambron (Video, 12:04 min)
  3. Four poems by Idea Vilariño, a poet from Uruguay

Aug 16

  1. The making of MILCAPS (video, 3:40 min), from the mind of one of my favorite artists: Marcelí Antúnez Roca
  2. The notebooks of Ana Frois, architect and visual artist from Portugal.
  3. An interview about cumbia from Mario Galeano Torres (5:37 min), a Colombian musician.

August 9

  1. Fading, an experimental short film (11 min) with amazing music by Donavon. By Jackson Tisi.
  2. The new album of Frente Cumbiero and Minyo Crusaders. Minyo Cumbiero: From Tokyo to Bogota
  3. Visual poetry by Erica Baum: The melody indicator.

July 21

  1. One song. Pais nublado, from Helado Negro.
  2. One article. Nina Simone on Time from brainpicker
  3. A video about gardens

July 26

  1. This cumbia playlist, for a chill and happy mood
  2. "La inconsistencia de lo visible" by Nicolas Lamas. A peruvian contemporary artist.
  3. The graphic design work of Okuyama Taiki.

July 19

  1. This Magritte painting
  2. A video of mountains, waves and the sea (1:39) From Morgan Maseen
  3. Two paragraphs and the beautiful images on the Tristan Tzara house designed by Adolf Loos