Intuitively developed art that follows its own internal logic free of other rules.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Eleusis & Praise Him @ Herberger Theater Art Gallery 10 Jan - 3 Mar 2014

15 x 14 x 10  High Fire Ceramic $900 
These address the unconscious claimed to be seen in the Eleusinian basket when you lifted the cloth covering the kiste. This was the revelation of the world, the sacred chest, the kalathos.  The interior here lights blue green from within as the cloth is lifted. Indentations on the outside by impression of dried nopal pads suggest pleating or weaving, dessicated prickly pear spines applied with cholla skeleton. There is of course a theory that a mirror was placed inside and you took a drug, saw yourself clouded like Batman in Batman I who lifts the cloth and sees a bat, which must seen ghastly when conformed to all those underground chambers of the revelation of the world where the rites took place, the unconscious receptacle of sin dressed up as idolatries in myth covered by a towel. Idolatry is beautiful in the eyes of sin, blue as Ishtar's gown where they pretend they are good to be good. That towel cover is the plastic surgery over our eyes that even when we receive pain and suffering and bless sin. Who shall deliver me from the bondage of this death? The unconscious Lilith pretends to be beautiful as Paula White, whole and healthy, wearing a million seductive faces, Isis, Ishtar and Lilith, a prostitute of Ishtar. We haven’t overcome our sins, they overcome us. Every time somebody thinks they defeat sin it morphs again. Lust becomes pride. Lying becomes self deception. That is the revelation of the world. 
Praise Him, Praise Him All You Little Children 
Revelation is what sins want to defeat. Gurus of the unconscious say everywhere revelation is myth. That is their means of fooling. The revelation of the world is called wisdom, the way of yourself or the god plant, based on the cover. Here you look within and see what do the patrons of the theater at intermission do in this two month run. Should they fall to the ground weeping as their pass, discover truth vessels, as we have been told, it is not their fault. Blue interiors are much desired. These might not be gone, but so cheap at the price. If only their betters would tell them hat to do. Brown and green remnants kneaded into porcelain with blue green mason stains, composite light/dark clays impastoed with chrome oxide, titanium, cobalt, rutile, some burnt umber, Death Valley red added to strengthen the lip at the end before formation.  Glaze with blue green mat + lily pad + drift of clear inside, blue green mat + green poison patina + clear outside.

Praise Him, Praise Him All You Little Children  manifests the unconscious only ever known by looking back. The insight belongs to the viewer, is not vested in the telling. Its call and response has no a priori aesthetic, only such as appears in coherence. He knows where he is going, but is not sure of his way. He knows by going, hence he knows by doing, to praise in breath and prepare to wear the Word as a living scroll within, literal handwritten  boxes bound on the head and hand, on top of precepts retold that we ourselves are in the Word that underlies and surrounds what is said, a coat to give away what transfers by will, which you're going to say you've been praying all these years to have, and will. Herberger exhibits before this included Pity Pony, Out of Body and Out of Body II, Boxcar Named Desire and  Corn, Rice and Bean Jar. The Herberger entry process stipulates ten digital images. Those selected make this pattern.

* Boomquats. Don't know where else to put this right now, so make it small. The death of the Uncon doesn't include the loss of breath and autonomic nervous systems. It does include the loss of falsity, deception, fear, powers of dominion. Not a utopia, it is called the Kingdom of God. Whether that's what it is or whether that's another ruse planted and interpreted by the Boomquats needs discerning. Boomquats are a name for Jung's Freud forces. Those forces are no more endemic to the human than sin. As sin is done, death dies, which you think a utopian dream, but it is not, assuredly not. The roar. the roar.

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